Back in his office, Brian watched it all unfold on the monitor - his father’s proud arrival, his mother’s observant posture at the window, the grateful parents shepherding their children away. A deep, quiet joy filled him. It was no longer just a project or a logistical puzzle. On the screen, he saw a community forming, a family legacy in action, and his own son right at the heart of it. Every checked box on his list had helped build that moment. He leaned back, the weight of responsibility lifting, replaced by pure, unguarded satisfaction.Mr. Garfield’s ApartmentHis pride would be complete if his grandson, just two years and seven months old, simply played with joy.“You’re dreaming of trophies for a toddler,” Charity said gently from the doorway.“A grandfather can hope,” Frederick replied, smiling.She shook her head fondly. “The fun is the point.”He knew she was right. Whether his grandson scored or simply laughed, seeing him on that field - a part of something built by Brian,
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