Henri Thoreau was no longer unconscious.The machines around him still monitored every movement, every fluctuation in his condition, but his eyes were open now, aware, present, and most importantly alive. The doctors had confirmed he was out of immediate danger, though far from recovered. His body had taken too much damage, and recovery would be long, uncertain, and incomplete.But he could speak.That alone changed everything.Lucas stood by the hospital bed earlier, listening, watching, trying to reconcile the man lying there with the force he had always known his father to be. There were questions forming in his mind, questions that now demanded answers, but none of them had been asked yet. Not then.Because something else was already pulling at him.Something unresolved.He left the hospital shortly after, deciding to return home, if only to clear his head, to change, to reset before facing everything that was beginning to collapse around him.But the moment he stepped into the ho
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