“I… I…” His voice cracked like brittle glass. He couldn’t even form an excuse, because deep inside he knew there was none. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been enough.
Sylvia’s mother stood rigid, her chest heaving with suppressed sobs, eyes wet but unyielding. The sound clawed at Arsene’s ears, each note a reminder of what he had failed to protect.
Arnav shifted slightly, his sharp gaze observing but not interfering. He could feel the weight of the moment, its rawness too sacred and too cruel for intrusion. Beside him, Raellyn gripped her husband’s hand tightly, her own eyes glistening as she witnessed the unraveling of a man before them. Arsene stumbled backward until his shoulder met the cold, sterile wall of the hallway. He slid down slowly, his knees no longer strong enough to hold
