Mr. Valmont sat in his wheelchair in the middle of the garden, his forlorn expression fixed on a single flower. I forgot all about my anger and problems as I kept staring at him. He looked like he was mourning something lost. He looked like a part of himself was no more.
The more I kept staring at him, the more my eyes burned, and my throat tightened.
Grief.
Grief was the only thing making his eyes spark. Grief so great, I could feel it pressing down on me. An emotion I was all too familiar with. And I know he needs his alone time, and I shouldn't be here. But just as I was about to turn and leave, he turned his head, and his eyes landed on me.
“Kaidora,” he called softly, his voice hoarse.
“I-I was just about to leave, sir,” I said, pointing back at the exit.
“Come sit with me.”
I
