Riley read them again, slower this time.
The words carried a weight not born of grandeur but of quiet suffering, quiet endurance.
There was no arrogance, no embellishment—just raw emotion hidden beneath a composed surface. It felt... real.
And real was rare in Riley's world.
For someone constantly surrounded by ambition, flattery, and veiled manipulation, this simple note felt like a breath of cold air after a long walk through fire.
It wasn't trying to impress him. It wasn't trying to gain anything.
It was, in essence, a voice in the dark—soft, steady, and reaching out not for power, but for understanding.
Riley sat there for a long moment, watching the wind ripple across the river's surface.
The fishing rod beside him remained still, forgotten.
Fluffy stirred from his nap, blinked sleepily at Riley, then let out a soft sound.
"beeeeh…" before curling back into a ball.
