"Even the strongest warrior cries," he murmured, holding her tearful gaze.
She offered a bitter smile and nodded. She didn’t sob, didn’t gasp—just let the tears fall, silent and unrelenting, as if her body had finally surrendered to the grief her mind had long denied.
He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t offer empty reassurances.
He just stayed.
"I grew up with just Mom by my side," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she stared into the endless blue of the water before them. The bright light from the lamppost danced on the surface, mocking the heaviness in her chest.
"I was just a child, so I kept asking where my dad was. All my classmates had one." A hollow chuckle escaped her lips. "While they bragged about picnics, carnivals, or even just getting ice cream wit
