For as long as I can remember, the name Thomas was synonymous with safety. He was the steady hand that guided me through the darkest chapters of my youth, stepping into the void left by my parents when they perished in a tragic car accident when I was only three years old. To me, he wasn’t just my father’s best friend; he was the architect of my survival, the man who chose to build a life around a child that wasn’t his own.
The memories of my biological parents are
