Tears

_Micini’s POV_

The silence after Saint left was worse than anything he said.

Even the echo of the door slamming didn’t linger.

It was like his presence had been scrubbed from the room, and in its place was a gaping hollow that nothing could fill.

Luca didn’t speak. He didn’t touch me, either.

He just sat beside me like a shadow. A waiting shape. Always there.

I stared into the fireplace, watching the flames flicker and shrink. They reminded me of everything inside me — too much heat, burning itself out.

All I could think about were my parents and how much that information had hurt me.

“I should go rest,” I finally said, my voice dry and flat.

My mind was barely there and if he said anything else, I didn't hear him.

Luca stood as I stood.

He didn’t offer to walk me back. I think even he knew I needed silence more than safety.

The hallway felt too long. Too narrow. Like it was built to make people feel small.

Make ME feel small.

Maybe that’s what this whole house was — a maze designed