Alaric didn’t go far.
He simply crossed the street and stopped in front of Victor’s apartment. For a moment, he
stared at the door, gathering his thoughts, then knocked. Once. Twice. Three times.
After several knocks, the door finally creaked open.
Victor stood there, hair messy, eyes half-closed with sleep.
“Daddy? You’re here early…
” he muttered.
Alaric brushed past him without waiting for permission.
you call this early? Are you insane?”
“It’s already eleven in the morning, and
Victor rubbed his face tiredly.
“Okay, okay… let me freshen up. I’ll be back in ten minutes.
”
He disappeared upstairs.
Alaric stood in the middle of the apartment, looking around. Boxes were still stacked in corners,
some unopened, clothes half-folded, the place looking temporary and unsettled.
