Adrien ascended the stairs in silence, each step muffled against the old wood. The dim hallway stretched ahead, shadows stretching along the walls as the wind howled faintly through the frost-laced windows. He stopped before her door, knuckles tapping twice—soft but firm.
No answer.
He waited a moment longer, listening. Nothing but the faint creak of the old house breathing. The door was slightly ajar. He slid it open slowly, careful not to startle her.
The soft glow of lamplight bathed the room in a golden hush. His eyes found her immediately—curled against the pillows, a worn letter clutched close to her chest as if it were the only thing tethering her to this world. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes red-rimmed from crying, though the tears had long dried, leaving faint trails along her skin like ghostly fingerprints of grief.
She didn't notice him. Her gaze was distant—far away and nowhere at once. The kind of silence that came only after a storm had ravaged the soul.
