AERIS CAELORA

I woke up staring at the ceiling.

The room was dark.

At some point the sun had gone down.

I couldn't remember when.

My body felt heavy. Not sore. Not tired.

Just... heavy.

Like someone had replaced my bones with concrete while I slept.

I lay there for a long time.

Minutes.

Hours.

I wasn't sure anymore.

The black funeral dress still clung to my skin.

The veil had fallen somewhere beside the bed.

Mascara stained the edge of the pillow.

I didn't bother fixing any of it.

The room smelled stale.

A tray of untouched food sat near the doorway.

Cold.

Forgotten.

Someone had probably brought it hours ago.

Maybe multiple times.

I couldn't remember.

Eventually I sat up.

The movement alone made my head spin.

For a second I almost lay back down.

Then I looked around the room.

Silence.

No messages.

No calls.

No father.

No Mi'kael.

My fingers tightened against the sheets.

I stood anyway.

Not because I wanted to.

Because staying there suddenly felt worse.

The elevator ride to the executive floor felt endless.

The tower was quieter now.

Most of the employees had gone home.

The few that remained lowered their heads respectfully when they saw me.

I ignored all of them.

The office doors slid open automatically.

The broken window had already been repaired.

How much time had passed since then?

I couldn't tell.

Now, Father's office looked exactly the same as before.

That somehow made it worse.

His desk.

His chair.

The glass walls overlooking Zephyrion.

Everything was exactly where he left it.

Like he could walk back through the door at any moment.

I stood there for several seconds before moving.

Then slowly walked around the desk and sat in his chair.

It felt wrong.

Too large.

Too empty.

My eyes drifted toward the unfinished paperwork still sitting on the desk.

A datapad.

Several reports.

A half-finished document.

I reached toward it instinctively.

Then stopped.

The handwriting at the bottom was his.

My hand immediately pulled away.

I opened one of the drawers instead.

Inside sat dozens of things that should've been meaningless.

Old documents.

Cards.

Small keepsakes.

The kind of things powerful people were supposed to throw away.

Yet he never did.

My fingers brushed against something tucked near the back.

A photograph.

I pulled it out carefully.

For a moment I simply stared.

A little girl smiled back at me.

Messy golden hair.

Missing front tooth.

Father stood beside her.

One hand resting on her shoulder.

Smiling.

Not the practiced smile he wore for cameras.

Nor the one he gave executives.

A real Smile.

My thumb traced across the edge of the photo.

The paper trembled slightly in my grasp.

I turned it over.

There was handwriting on the back.

A single sentence.

Simple.

Neat.

Recognizable.

I'll forever love you, even if I can never show it.

The office blurred.

I stared at the words again.

And again.

And again.

As if reading them enough times would somehow change them.

A sound escaped my throat.

Small.

Broken.

I quickly pressed the photograph against my chest.

My eyes squeezed shut.

For a few seconds I just sat there.

Head lowered.

Breathing unevenly.

The paper crumpling slightly beneath my grip.

Then I wiped my face roughly and opened another drawer.

And another.

And another.

Searching.

For what?

I didn't know.

Maybe another message.

Maybe another explanation.

Maybe proof that he wasn't really gone.

My movements became faster.

Folders.

Documents.

Old records.

Datapads.

Photographs.

Photographs.

Photographs.

Then—

I froze.

My fingers stopped moving.

Two children stared back at me from a faded photograph.

One with black hair.

One with golden hair.

Both covered in dirt.

Both laughing.

Mi'kael had one arm wrapped around my shoulders while holding up some wooden practice sword in victory.

I was making a face at the camera.

His smile was ridiculous.

Mine somehow looked even worse.

For a second I couldn't breathe.

I remembered that day.

I remembered falling.

I remembered him helping me back up.

I remembered refusing to go home because I wanted to keep playing.

I remembered feeling...

Happy.

My grip tightened around the photograph.

A drop of water struck the image.

Then another.

Then another.

I didn't notice I'd started crying until my vision disappeared completely.

The chair rolled backwards abruptly.

I nearly stumbled standing up.

The photograph remained clenched tightly in my hand.

Too tightly.

The edges bent.

I didn't care.

My other hand covered my mouth.

Not to stop the crying.

To stop the noise.

Because once it started it wouldn't stop.

The office felt too large.

Too empty.

Too quiet.

Father was gone.

And now Mi'kael was leaving too.

The same Mi'kael who smiled at me in this photograph.

The same Mi'kael who came back after five years.

The same Mi'kael who still held my hand after everything I said.

I lowered myself slowly back into the chair.

The photograph remained trapped between both hands.

As if letting go would kill the memory.

My eyes drifted toward the picture again.

Toward that stupid smile.

Toward the boy who always seemed to know exactly what to say.

Toward the only person who had ever looked at me and seen something other than an heir.

The only person who made me feel wanted.

Valuable.

Real.

My fingers curled tighter around the photograph.

A fresh wave of tears stained the image.

No.

I couldn't lose him too.

I wouldn't.

Not again.

Not this time.

Not him.