Another winter came. The first heavy snow was falling when the call from the prison came through.
It was Julian.
His voice sounded worn down and hollowed out through the cold receiver. The arrogance and the swagger were gone. Nothing was left but exhaustion and regret.
"Mia." He paused. "It's snowing."
He said it softly, heavy with something that sounded almost like a man coming home too late.
I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of my lab and watched the white sweep across the city. Quiet. Clean. Cold.
I answered with a single word. "Yeah."
"I still remember the snow the year we started the company." His voice stayed low, full of things long buried. A breath. "We couldn't afford heat that winter. Your hands and feet were red from the cold. You still made us spaghetti, and you lau
