Noah went to meet his parents, and the moment they saw him, it was as if they were staring at a ghost.
For a few heartbeats, neither of them could move.
"Eric… I think I've finally gone mad from grief," Martha whispered, turning to her husband as tears streamed down her face. "I'm seeing our son standing at the door."
Eric's eyes were already red, his vision trembling. "Then I must be mad too, Martha," he said hoarsely. "Because I see him as well. Why would God be so cruel now? Why reopen wounds that never truly healed?"
His legs gave out, and he fell to the ground.
Martha followed him, her strength abandoning her completely. To them, the sight before their eyes could only be a cruel illusion born from unbearable sorrow.
Seeing them collapse, Noah rushed forward.
"Mom. Dad. I'm real," he said urgently. "I'm not your imagination."
At his words, both of them looked up as if travelers dying of thirst had suddenly found water in the desert.
