Not even a flicker of recognition.

Back in high school, I had been the overweight grieving kid people only noticed when they wanted to laugh. Now I was thirty-seven, leaner, steadier, and shaped by years of building a life from nothing. Charlotte had no reason to connect me to the boy I used to be.

But it still hurt.

“Would you like some water?” I finally asked. “You look exhausted.”

She shook her head.

“I can’t. My brother is waiting. He’s not well. I’m his only caregiver.”

“Only caregiver?”

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