The one who smiled without meaning it, who walked through life like a shell of the person she used to be. A soulless structure, going through the motions but never truly living. That thought, that haunting image of her, was what had driven him to this edge.
But now, as Helga's words rang in his ears, he realized that maybe he had been trying too hard to find a solution, to fix things in a way that made sense to him. Maybe all Esme
needed—what she really needed—was for them to just be there, in the background, ready to catch her if she fell, but without smothering her.
Aron's sobs quieted, his breathing coming in shallow gasps as he tried to collect himself. His hand, still pressed to his mouth, trembled as he wiped away the tears that continued to stream down his face. He didn't know how to answer Helga's question. All he knew was that he couldn't lose Esme again—not like before.
