He did not jump around or scream the way other children might have done when opening an expensive present.

He simply dropped down onto the carpet, pressing both palms against his cheeks while hot tears welled in his eyes.

“You got the one from the shop window,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

Owen knelt beside him on the floor with a proud, tired grin across his face.

“Happy twelfth birthday, son,” Owen said softly.

Noah looked up at his father in total disbelief, glancing between the polished wood and his father’s calloused hands.

“How did you two afford this when it costs a whole fortune?”