THE SILENCE 🤐
The library smelled of leather and old paper and the particular dust that accumulates in rooms where people read rather than display. Damien sat in his grandfather's chair—the one with the worn armrest, the patched leather, the indentation that suggested a man who had spent decades thinking in this exact position. He had not slept. The gala had ended six hours ago, the announcement made, the board's murmurs absorbed, the car ride home accomplished in silence that Sophia had not broken and he had not known how to fill.
He had come here instead of sleeping, to the hidden room behind the false bookshelf, surrounded by models that would never be built and memories that refused to be organized.
His phone sat on the desk, silent. He had not called her. He did not know what to sa
