After the talk with Xara, Aether slowly walked along the empty corridor.
Almost a month had passed since he had been unconscious.
So many things must have needed his attention, so many matters must have demanded his hand.
That was what he had thought when he first opened his eyes.
Yet now, as he walked forward, he realised most of that work had already been handled by his wives, completed quietly and efficiently without waiting for him to stand at the centre.
Honestly, he never expected them to shoulder everything without his help.
Aether let out a weak chuckle as memories surfaced, reminding him that they had survived and lived in this fucked world long before he ever entered their lives.
Of course, they knew how to move forward without him intervening, without him standing as their shield or guide.
The realisation filled him with warmth, and yet at the same time, a dull ache settled in his chest.
It was not that he wanted them to be helpless.
