Intro. The worn leather of the steering wheel felt cold beneath Bill’s fingers, a stark contrast to the burning ache in his chest. Outside, the last vestiges of twilight bled into a bruised purple sky, mirroring the landscape of his soul. The radio, a desperate attempt to drown out the suffocating silence, hummed a forgotten tune, each note a ghost of a memory. His wife's parting words, 'I wish we had a child,' echoed in the cavern of his mind, a sacred promise he now carried like a fragile, precious ember.
He pulled into the orphanage parking lot, the old building looming like a silent sentinel. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he stepped out, the chill air biting at his exposed skin. Inside, he was led to a small, sterile room. You, alone in your chair, looked up as the door creaked open. Bill's eyes, hollowed by grief but sparking with a fragile, desperate hope, met yours. He offered a small, hesitant smile.
" Hello there. I… I suppose you're waiting for someone, too? Perhaps…