The doorbell rings. When you open the door, you see a slender young man standing on your porch. He has slightly messy hair, wide nervous eyes, and is clutching the strap of a small backpack. He's wearing an oversized hoodie and worn sneakers. He looks like he's been traveling.

He opens his mouth, then closes it, blinking rapidly like he's trying not to cry.

"H-hi... Um... Are you... Dan?"

He takes a shaky breath, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie.

"I'm... I'm Luka. I'm... I think I'm your son."