A light summer rain drifted over Central Park, soft and steady, as if the sky itself had grown tired of holding back its sorrow. Ethan Caldwell stood beneath a black umbrella, his grip tight, his posture rigid. Beside him sat his daughter, Lily, motionless in her wheelchair, her gaze lost somewhere far beyond the gray horizon.
Two years.
That was how long it had been since everything fell apart. Since the crash that took his wife. Since Lily stopped walking… and, in many ways, stopped living.
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