As Lucy settled down, her breaths grew steadier, but her grip on his cloak remained tight, as if afraid he might vanish the moment she let go.
Asher reached out, his thumb gently wiping away the lingering tears on her cheeks.
The Lucy who once carried herself with confidence, the woman who stood firm against her own fate, was gone. In her place was someone more fragile, someone who had endured years of grief alone.
And now, standing before her, he saw more than just an old love—he saw a woman who needed his protection.
She never gave up on him, not even when the entire world told her to move on with her life.
But there was one question that would not leave his mind. A question that clawed at the back of his thoughts, demanding an immediate answer.
His voice came softer this time, hesitant. "Lucy… what happened to my mother?"
