The next morning, Alaric woke early, his thoughts still consumed by the events of the previous night. The weight of his responsibilities bore down on him like a leaden cloak, but he had to stay strong. Lucy's life depended on him, and every minute he wasted was one closer to losing her. He couldn't let that happen.
As the early morning light filtered through the windows, Alaric made his way to the kitchen. His mother, Maria, was already there, quietly making breakfast. She looked up when he entered, her tired eyes softening slightly at the sight of him.
"You're up early," she said softly, her voice holding a trace of worry.
Alaric nodded. "I couldn't sleep."
Maria didn't press him further. She had long ago learned that when Alaric had something on his mind, it was best to let him work through it on his own. Instead, she handed him a cup of coffee and sat down at the table with him.
