I was on the bedroom floor with my laptop open, having Dorian's name typed in the search bar. For almost two hours, I had not moved whereas Isabelle was in her room. As the house was quiet, I could make out faint music through her door, something quite low similar to what she played when she really did not want to think. I knew my daughter's ways better than even she knew I did.
Upon hitting the enter key, the first few results seemed quite normal to me. His studio and a feature in a local lifestyle magazine from three years ago. A picture of him at some charity event smiling and relaxed and that was a type of Dorian I had married.
As I kept going down the list, there was a pretty old info of him, the kind of thread that resides at the remotest areas of the internet and never quite disap
