Alan
I could feel the warmth of her fingers pressed to mine, the subtle pressure grounding me against the tumult inside.
Cyril’s eyes swept over the grand staircase, the polished floors, the portraits lining the hallway.
For a fleeting moment, I saw the same mixture of awe, nostalgia, and unease I had felt when I first returned to the suburban house she had reluctantly agreed to visit.
I wanted her to feel at home here, to know that even in the face of our complicated history, this place could be safe.
Her voice broke the quiet. “It… it looks the same, Alan. Almost exactly the same as before. If it weren’t for the location, I’d swear this was the house I grew up in.”
I smiled softly. “It’s not the same without you,” I said. “Not a single corner of this place felt right while you we
