Inside the room, Henry held Joshua in his arms, looking down at the boy curled up against his chest.
Joshua was truly exhausted—his face a little pale, faint dark circles visible beneath his eyes.
However, Henry knew it wasn't simply because Joshua was tired. Lately, Joshua had been waking up in the middle of the night, clinging to him while murmuring something under his breath—words Henry could never quite make out.
But Henry had always known—there seemed to be someone in Joshua's heart… Someone who either looked like him or perhaps simply had that same small mole under the left eye.
He didn't know. Yet every time it happened, he felt a strange mix of warmth and bitterness—warmth because Joshua unconsciously sought him out, bitterness because, deep down, Joshua was thinking of that person.
Who was that person? Were they already gone? Henry had entertained countless guesses based on Joshua's state.
