Chapter 1:

The Man with the Silver Hair
The late afternoon sun stretched across the living room floor, painting everything in a golden hue. I sat on the edge of the couch,

absentmindedly flipping through the mail — utility bills, pizza coupons, and a postcard from a car dealership offering a free oil change. Nothing that demanded urgency.

Then the doorbell rang.

I checked the clock. Serena always came around this time on Saturdays, part of our father-daughter ritual ever since she moved out after turning eighteen.

I knew her knock, her bubbly voice echoing down the hallway, the way she kicked off her shoes and talked a mile a minute about her week.

But today, her voice sounded different.

“Hey, Dad!” she said brightly as I opened the door. She swept in wearing a turquoise sundress that shimmered like summer water. She hugged me quickly, then pulled back with sparkling eyes. “You won’t believe what just happened!”

I smiled, but something in her tone made me pause.

“What is it?” I asked. “Did you finally tell your roommate about your horror-movie-level fear of spiders?”

She laughed. “No, nothing like that. It’s… actually serious.” She perched on the edge of the couch, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A boyfriend?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Fiancé.”

I blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m engaged,” she said, holding up her left hand, a modest silver ring catching the sunlight. “His name is Edison. We’re getting married.”

I sat back in stunned silence. Serena had never mentioned a serious boyfriend, let alone a fiancé. But what hit harder was what came next.

“He’s sixty,” she said.

That number punched the breath out of me. Sixty? I tried to calculate how many years older that made him. She was just eighteen — practically still a kid, still full of untapped dreams and youthful innocence. Edison was forty-two years older. He was closer to my age than hers.