Mirabella
I stared at Vincent, shocked.
“Mom’s name isn't... Mirael Russo?”
He looked at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, then simply sighed.
“Get some rest. Someone will bring your backpack soon.”
I nodded slowly. That was all I had with me—just my backpack. I didn’t even get to return home after the argument with Dad. I’ll go back for mine and Mom’s things next week, once I return. If I return.
Vincent turned and walked out, quietly closing the door behind him. I sank onto the bed. It was soft—unbelievably soft and warm—but even with the plush comfort, I felt a deep emptiness.
The room was huge, elegant, maybe even beautiful… but it felt lonely without Puto. I’d call him later, see how he was settling in with the neighbor lady. I missed him already.
---
Vincent
