Alvin stepped outside just as the rain eased into a thin mist.
The air smelled damp and metallic, the kind of smell that clung to ruins and broken streets, but the courtyard itself was quiet. Too quiet. The children were not running. No laughter echoed. No arguments over toys or food.
He saw them near the old concrete steps.
Leo stood in front, shoulders stiff, trying very hard to look strong. Ash was beside him, hands clenched at his sides, eyes red but dry, like he had cried until there were no tears left. Lily hovered close, fingers twisting the hem of her shirt nervously, gaze fixed on Alvin as if she were afraid blinking would make him disappear again. And Diana stood just a step behind the others, small and thin, her grip tight around Lily's sleeve.
They froze the moment they saw him.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then Leo took a step forward, stopped, and swallowed hard.
Alvin felt something in his chest twist.
These four had always been different.
