The night stretched endlessly. Aramith sat in the dimly lit hall, his elbows on his knees, fingers loosely intertwined. His thoughts, tangled and heavy, churned with everything that had happened. He had meant well—he always did—but meaning well had never been enough.
The house was quiet. Too quiet. The kind that made every breath feel like an intrusion.
Then, he heard footsteps. Light but deliberate.
Jade descended the stairs. She wasn't looking for him—probably just restless—but the moment her eyes met his, she froze. Aramith saw the recognition flicker before her expression twisted.
Disgust.
She clicked her tongue, her lips curling slightly. "Tch."
Then she turned, ready to walk away.
"Jade," he croaked, barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make her pause.
He took in a slow, unsteady breath. "I just… I just want to apologize."
She remained still, her back to him but her grip on the rails tightened.
