Another year passed before anything real came through.

Yiannis had kept his word. He followed every lead that crossed his desk, asked questions in rooms where people didn’t like being questioned, and went back to the same names more than once when the answers felt thin. Most of it led nowhere. Old records, broken lines of contact, places that had been abandoned and never rebuilt.

Then something held.

It wasn’t clear at first. Just a name that matched, a location that hadn’t shown up before, a note in a report that didn’t fit with the rest. Yiannis read it twice, then again, slower this time.

“They went back,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

Back to where they started. Before the war shifted everything.

He didn’t wait long after that.

Charles was sitting near the window when Yiannis found him, one of the children asleep against his shoulder, the other resting nearby. The light came in soft, catching on the edges of things without making them sharp.

“I found something,” Yiannis said.

Charles looked up, something tightening in his expression before he could stop it.

“What kind of something.”

Yiannis held his gaze.

“Your family,” he said. “There’s a record. They made it back to your hometown. A while ago.”

Charles didn’t speak right away.

He just stared at him, like the words needed time to settle into something real.

“Are you sure,” he asked quietly.

“No,” Yiannis replied. “Not completely. But it’s the closest thing we’ve had.”

A pause stretched, long and uneven.

“They could still be there,” Yiannis added.

Charles looked down at the child in his arms, adjusting his hold without thinking.

“I thought…” he started, then stopped. “I thought they were gone.”

“I know.”

Another silence, heavier now.

“We can go,” Yiannis said. “Confirm it. See for yourself.”

Charles nodded slowly, like the motion came from somewhere else.

“Yeah,” he said. “We should.”

The trip back wasn’t easy.

The country still carried the marks of what had happened. Buildings that hadn’t been rebuilt, roads that led nowhere, towns that looked half-finished even after years had passed. It felt familiar in the wrong way, like something that used to belong to him but didn’t fit the same anymore.

Charles stayed quiet for most of it.

He held the children close, his attention shifting between them and the landscape outside like he was trying to place himself somewhere between the two.

When they reached the town, it didn’t look the way he remembered.

It was smaller, or maybe it just felt that way now. The streets were quieter, the edges worn down in places that used to be kept up. There were signs of life, though. People moving, voices carrying in short bursts, something like routine holding the space together.

Charles stopped before they reached the house.

“This is it,” he said.

Yiannis didn’t answer. He stayed a step behind, letting him take it at his own pace.

Charles stood there for a moment, the weight of it settling in a way that made it hard to move.

Then he did.

The door opened before he knocked.

For a second, no one spoke.

His mother stood there, her expression shifting too quickly to follow. Shock first, then something sharper, something that looked like it hurt to hold.

“Charles,” she said.

It didn’t sound like a question.

He nodded once, the movement small.

“Yeah,” he replied.

That was all it took.

She stepped forward and pulled him in, tight and sudden, like letting go wasn’t an option anymore. Charles didn’t move at first, then his arms came up around her without thinking, the children caught between them in a way that didn’t matter.

“You’re alive,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “You’re—”

“I’m here,” he answered.

His father stood just behind her, quieter, but his expression said the same thing in a different way. Relief, disbelief, something held back that didn’t quite reach the surface.

The reunion wasn’t clean.

There were tears, yes, but also pauses. Moments where no one knew what to say next, where the years between them didn’t fill in easily. The war had taken more than time. It had shifted the way they understood each other.

They stepped inside slowly.

“This is…” his mother started, looking down at the children.

“My kids,” Charles said.

The words felt strange and solid at the same time.

A pause followed.

“They’re…” she began, then stopped, not finishing the thought.

“Yeah,” Charles said. “I know.”

No one pushed further.

They made space without saying it out loud. A place to sit, something to eat, questions that came slower than they might have before. The kind of conversation that circled around what mattered without stepping on it too hard.

“They’re beautiful,” his mother said quietly after a while.

Charles nodded.

“They are.”

It was bittersweet in a way that didn’t need explanation.

The house held memories that didn’t fit the same anymore. The people inside it felt familiar, but not unchanged. Everything had shifted just enough to remind him that time hadn’t waited for him to catch up.

That night, after things settled, Charles sat outside with Yiannis.

The air was cooler than he expected.

“They made it,” he said.

“They did.”

Another pause.

“I thought I lost them,” Charles added.

“I know.”

Charles leaned back slightly, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the street.

“I want to stay,” he said.

Yiannis didn’t respond right away.

“Then stay,” he said after a moment.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It can be.”

Charles shook his head.

“You know it’s not,” he said. “What we are. What we have. The kids. If anyone pushes—”

“They won’t,” Yiannis said.

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“I can handle it.”

Charles glanced at him.

“You’re still working with them.”

“I’m working against parts of it,” Yiannis corrected.

“That’s not the same.”

“No,” Yiannis said. “But it’s enough to keep them from overstepping.”

Another silence stretched between them.

“The invaders don’t touch this area anymore,” Yiannis added. “Not after what happened last time.”

Charles looked at him more closely.

“You’re that important now.”

Yiannis let out a quiet breath.

“Important enough.”

That wasn’t reassurance.

But it was something.

Charles nodded slowly, like he was weighing it.

“I don’t want to keep running,” he said.

“Then don’t.”

“And if it comes back.”

Yiannis met his gaze.

“Then we deal with it,” he said.

Charles studied him for a long moment, then looked away again.

It wasn’t a decision made in a single moment.

It was something that settled over time, shaped by everything they had been through and everything they still carried.

But for the first time in a long while, staying didn’t feel like giving something up.

It felt like choosing something instead. 

They had settled into something that almost felt normal.

Charles’s parents’ house was small, worn at the edges, but it held. The children had already found their place in it, their sounds filling the rooms in a way that made everything feel less quiet than it had been for years. Outside, the town moved at its own pace, slower than the cities, careful but steady.

Yiannis couldn’t stay long.

There were meetings he couldn’t avoid, decisions tied to his name whether he liked it or not. The city still needed him, and now that things had shifted, he had more say in how aid moved through places like this. It wasn’t something he trusted to anyone else.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he said, adjusting the strap of his bag.

Charles nodded, already moving around the room, gathering what Yiannis would need before he even asked.

“You always say that,” he replied. “Then it turns into a week.”

“It won’t this time.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

Yiannis almost smiled.

“I mean it now.”

“Sure.”

Charles zipped the bag halfway, then paused, checking again like he might have missed something.

“You’ve got enough,” he added. “Food, water, documents. Don’t forget those again.”

“I forgot once.”

“That was enough.”

Yiannis shook his head slightly, stepping out for a moment to speak with someone outside.

Charles kept going.

He reached into the inner pocket to make sure everything was in place when something slipped loose and fell onto the floor. A thin piece of paper, worn at the edges, folded enough times that the crease lines showed through.

He picked it up.

At first, it didn’t make sense. Just a blurry image, the kind taken without thinking. A desk, cluttered in a way that felt familiar. Then his eyes caught the reflection. Not clear, not centered, just half a face caught in the glass, angled wrong.

His breath hitched slightly.

He knew this.

Not from here.

From before.

From years ago, when everything had still been simple enough to send something like this without thinking too much about it.

“I sent this,” he said under his breath.

The memory came back in pieces. A photo shared in an email. A joke about how it wasn’t meant to include his reflection. A conversation that stretched longer than it should have, turning into something he hadn’t expected.

An exchange student.

Yiannis.

Footsteps approached.

Charles didn’t look up right away.

“Where did you get this,” he asked, holding the photo up.

Yiannis stopped in the doorway.

For a second, he didn’t answer.

Then he stepped inside slowly.

“You found that,” he said.

Charles turned to face him fully now, something sharper in his expression.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Just answer me.”

Yiannis exhaled quietly.

“I printed it,” he said. “A long time ago.”

“Why.”

Yiannis hesitated, then shrugged slightly, like he didn’t have a better way to explain it.

“I was trying to find someone,” he said.

Charles stared at him.

“An exchange student,” he said slowly. “Same name. We used to email. I sent this picture.”

Yiannis nodded once.

“Yeah.”

Charles blinked.

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“You’re telling me you’re that Yiannis.”

“Yes.”

Another pause.

“And you didn’t think to mention that.”

Yiannis shifted slightly, running a hand over the back of his neck.

“I didn’t know it was you,” he said.

Charles let out a short breath, disbelief clear in it.

“You didn’t know.”

“You look different,” Yiannis replied. “Back then you looked like—”

“Don’t say it.”

“—like a kid,” Yiannis finished anyway.

Charles stared at him.

“I was a kid.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s your defense.”

“It’s part of it.”

Charles shook his head, almost laughing now, though it didn’t quite settle.

“You’ve been carrying this around,” he said, lifting the photo slightly. “For years.”

“I forgot about it,” Yiannis said.

Charles blinked again.

“You forgot.”

“For a while,” Yiannis added quickly. “Then I found it again. When we were heading back to my country.”

“And you still didn’t say anything.”

“It wasn’t the best timing.”

Charles let out a breath that turned into a quiet, incredulous laugh.

“When exactly was the best timing,” he asked. “During the war. Or when we were arguing. Or maybe right after I found out I was pregnant.”

Yiannis winced slightly.

“Alright,” he said. “That sounds worse when you put it like that.”

“It is worse.”

“I was going to say something.”

“When.”

Yiannis paused.

“I don’t remember.”

Charles stared at him, then shook his head again, this time with a small smile slipping through despite himself.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I know.”

Another pause, lighter now.

Charles looked down at the photo again, tracing the edge of it with his thumb.

“I remember sending this,” he said. “I thought it was stupid.”

“It was,” Yiannis replied.

Charles looked up sharply.

“You printed it.”

“I said it was stupid, not that I didn’t like it.”

That landed differently.

Charles let out a softer breath, the tension easing just a little more.

“You were looking for me,” he said.

Yiannis nodded.

“For a while.”

“And then you found me,” Charles went on. “And thought I was just… some guy who looked like me.”

“And had the same name,” Yiannis added.

“That should’ve been a clue.”

“In my defense, it’s not a rare name.”

Charles gave him a look.

“It’s not that common either.”

“Fair.”

They stood there for a moment, the photo still between them, the weight of it shifted into something easier to hold.

“Years,” Charles said quietly. “We were talking for a year.”

“I remember.”

“And then we just… stopped.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“And then this,” Charles added, gesturing vaguely between them.

Yiannis let out a quiet breath.

“Yeah,” he said. “This.”

Charles shook his head, but there was something softer in it now.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It is.”

A small silence followed, not heavy this time.

“Don’t lose it again,” Charles said, holding the photo out to him.

Yiannis took it carefully.

“I won’t.”

Charles watched him tuck it back into the bag, this time more secure.

“You better not,” he added.

Yiannis glanced at him, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve got a better memory now.”

“Do you.”

“Sometimes.”

Charles huffed a quiet laugh.

“Go,” he said after a moment. “Before you forget why you’re leaving.”

Yiannis nodded, adjusting the bag over his shoulder.

“I’ll be back,” he said.

Charles didn’t argue this time.

“Yeah,” he replied. “You will.”

Yiannis paused at the doorway, looking back once.

Charles was still there, the light catching on his face in a way that felt familiar and new at the same time. The children’s voices carried faintly from the other room. The house held it all together in a way that didn’t feel temporary anymore.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then Yiannis stepped out.

And this time, when he left, it didn’t feel like something unfinished.

It felt like something that had finally found its place.