But apparently, her joy was one-sided.
Instead of greeting his sister with the childlike enthusiasm she remembered, Rufus's small hands only clutched Cassius's bloodstained coat tighter.
His little frame seemed to shrink, as though he were trying to disappear into the older boy's side. His face buried itself in Cassius's chest, refusing to acknowledge the one person who had rushed to him with open arms.
Amelia's steps faltered.
Her heart twisted.
"Rufus…?" she said softly, crouching down to his level, her voice trembling with equal parts hope and disbelief. "It's me, Amelia. Your big sis. Come here, sweetie. Give me a hug."
She held out her arms.
But the boy didn't move.
Didn't even glance at her.
Instead, he shrank further behind Cassius, hiding beneath the flaps of his coat, as if she were a stranger—no, worse—something dangerous.
That hollow silence between them stung more than any wound. Her arms slowly dropped as she knelt there, stunned. "Rufus…?"
