Julian’s POV
My hand didn’t leave the doorknob. I just stood there, forehead pressed against the cold wood, eyes squeezed shut. Through the door, I could hear Aria sobbing—broken, raw sounds that tore through the silence of our home. Each sob felt like a knife twisting in my chest, and I couldn’t understand why it hurt so much.
My heart ached. It physically ached in a way I’d never experienced before.
I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Not until she stopped crying. Not until I knew she’d found some semblance of peace, even if it was just exhaustion dragging her into sleep. So I stood there, my palm pressed flat against the door, as if somehow my presence on the other side could comfort her, even though I knew it couldn’t. Even though I was the reason she was crying in the first place.
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