They stayed in town for three days, visiting Eleanor each afternoon, the conversationsgrowing easier as old wounds slowly aired themselves out into something closer tounderstanding, if not full resolution. Amara watched Julian change over those three days insmall, cumulative ways softer around the edges, less braced for disappointment, a manvisibly working through a grief he’d apparently been carrying, misidentified, for twenty-fiveyears.On their last evening, sitting together in the small inn where they’d been staying, Julianfinally spoke about what the visit had unearthed in him beyond the immediate reunion.“I built the rule about no real feelings partly because of Selene,” he said, staring at theuntouched drink in his hand. “But I think, underneath that, it started earlier. With mymother’s absence. I decided, somewhere around nine years old, that people who matteredto you eventually left, regardless of what you did to keep them. Selene simply confirmed abelief I’d alrea
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