"I missed you, Dad," Leo choked out, his voice cracking with the awkward, beautiful transition of a young boy becoming a young man. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you too, son," Arthur gasped, reaching up with one arm to pull Leo around into the center of the embrace, gathering both of his children into his lap. "I missed you every single second."
Then Sarah was there. She dropped to her knees in front of them, wrapping her arms around all three of them, resting her cheek against Arthur's tear-streaked face. Arthur reached out, his hand wrapping around the back of her head, pulling her close, pressing his lips against her temple, her cheek, her lips.
They didn't speak for a long time. They just held each other on the floor of that small, sterile room, four people fused together by love and grief, filling the quiet space with their shared breathing and soft, quiet weeping.
Officer Miller stood outside the room, his back pressed against the heavy wooden door, his hands clasped behind his waist. He looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly to clear his own blurred vision, a small, subtle smile touching the corners of his mouth. He adjusted his watch, set a timer for exactly thirty minutes, and stood guard—a massive, immovable wall protecting the sweetest half-hour a family had ever shared.
Inside, Arthur slowly pulled back, his hands cupping his wife's face. He looked into her eyes, seeing the exhaustion, but also the deep, unwavering light that had drawn him to her twenty years ago.
"How?" Arthur managed to ask, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. "How are you here?"
"A giant of a guard called my phone an hour ago while we were sitting at the diner," Sarah smiled through her tears, laughing softly as she wiped Arthur's cheeks with her thumb. "He told us to get to Gate 3 immediately and not to ask questions. He said a gentleman needed his family today."