The night passed quietly on the surface, but for Roman, it dragged, slow, suffocating, each hour grinding against his nerves.
It was one of the hardest nights of his life, second only to the night Magnus had stood before him and announced that his mother was gone.
But Morning came anyway and Roman stood in front of the mirror, his fingers tightening as he adjusted his tie. The fabric felt too stiff against his collar, the knot refusing to sit right no matter how many times he fixed it.
He exhaled, sharp and controlled, his breath fogging faintly against the glass. For a moment, he just stared at his reflection.
His eyes looked different, tired, edged with something heavier. In the span of a single day, everything had shifted. His career, his name, Estelle, all of it slipping through his fingers at once. And still, he had to move.
