Jessica glanced at the clock on the wall and let out a deep sigh. Time was moving and at a fast pace, but the atmosphere in the room felt frozen, thick with tension and heavy with emotion.
The truth sat between them like a thundercloud, refusing to pass with another storm still lingering behind.
Elliot's eyes hadn't left Davis's face for a while now. He sat still, studying the young man intently, like someone trying to memorize a long-lost picture.
Every feature tugged at his heart totally reminding him of what he has lost.
His facial features clearly defined like hers—those deep, sharp eyes, the proud nose, the thick brows.
The more he looked, the more he saw her—Siri, his daughter. His little girl who vanished years ago with nothing but a whisper in the wind. Now, her son sat before him. His grandson.
A soft, broken sigh escaped Elliot's lips.
