His days became restless watches. He lingered by the windows, scanning the street for strangers. Sometimes he caught sight of a figure—a broad back, a limp in the step—disappearing around corners. Each glimpse fueled his torment, a phantom rival haunting him just beyond reach.
Emily, increasingly withdrawn, whispered, “He said he’ll explain it all soon.” Michael hugged her, fighting back the rage and sorrow boiling in him. His daughter spoke of the man like family, while to him, he was a nameless ghost tearing his life apart.