He could almost picture it Rose, cold and prideful, shattering under the weight of grief. Had she shed tears like these for him before, when it was too late to hold him, to scold him, to tell him that she cared? The thought tugged at his chest, a quiet ache blooming deep within him.
Yet, as the memory of his past life faded, the warmth of the present moment began to seep into him. The soft weight of her body against his, the way she clung to him so tightly as if he might disappear, made it hard to stay lost in the pain of what had been.
Lucian let out a slow, quiet breath, his heart softening as he looked down at his sister. Her shoulders still shook with the remnants of her sobs, and her fingers curled slightly into his shirt as if anchoring herself to him. He felt the dampness of her tears soaking through the fabric, but he didn't mind.