Izan paced outside Elian's chambers, his steps measured but heavy. The corridor was quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices beyond the door.
Through the thick wood, he could hear Elian's laughter, light and unguarded, weaving through the conversation inside. The sound was so rare, so precious, that Izan hesitated, his hand hovering just inches from the door.
He had always cherished Elian's happiness, a fragile thing built after years of hardship and pains. And now, armed with news that could either strengthen or shatter that happiness, Izan felt the full weight of responsibility pressing down on his chest and doubt clawed at his resolve.
How could he tell Elian something so monumental without hurting him? Would this news bring Elian peace, or would it tear open old wounds that had barely begun to heal?
