Emon
I have always been the kind of man who needed answers.
When I was five, I took apart my father's watch just to understand how the ticking worked. I couldn't put it back together, but I stared at its pieces for hours, memorizing every gear, every spring, every secret held inside.
That’s how it felt now, with Albert.
Like I was watching the man I loved slowly unravel into pieces I didn’t understand. Pieces that no logic, no science, no normal explanation could touch.
So I began to dig.
The morning after I held him while he cried himself to sleep, I kissed his forehead and left the house while he was still breathing softly in bed. He looked fragile. Breakable. But he looked… safe. At peace. At least for a little while.
I needed to keep it that way.
I didn’t know where to begin ex
