Adrian stepped out of the car and looked up at the house in front of them. Isaac's house—once bright, lively, filled with warmth and the quiet laughter of a man who loved deeply—now looked dim and sunken. The windows were drawn, the garden untended, the door unmoved for days.
Adrian's eyes were swollen, his lashes clumped with dried tears he had shed just that morning. It had already been a week since Lucas's death, but time seemed to have folded in on itself. It felt like yesterday. It felt like forever.
Beside him, Ethan gently closed the car door and came to stand quietly by Adrian's side. Though Ethan had recently recovered from his own injuries, the moment he heard of Lucas's death, he hadn't hesitated. He didn't say much—but Adrian could see it. The pain in his eyes, the subtle clench of his fists, the deep breath he took before walking forward.
Adrian rang the doorbell, his finger trembling slightly. The sound echoed inside the house, empty and dull.
