Liam's eyes were glassy, reflecting the weight of a memory he wished he could forget. The city's ambient sounds faded into the background, and for a moment, all that existed was Liam's raw, unfiltered pain.
"There were days, even in the face of all that hatred and suspicion, when my mother would pull me close and tell me stories of better days," he murmured, his voice so low the gentle rustling of the trees around them almost drowned it out.
"She'd speak of her childhood, my first steps, and the love story she shared with my father. It was her way of comforting me that amidst all this, there were still pockets of light and love."
Irys could feel Liam trembling slightly, his fingertips cold against her skin. She squeezed his hand reassuringly.
Liam continued, "Even when she left for work, she would leave little notes for me. Messages of hope, of love, of perseverance. The day they found her... there was a note.
