Her words hung in the air like a cloud of smoke that didn't want to be cleared out.
Aestrea did not move or speak.
He simply sat there, absorbing every syllable she had just laid bare in front of him, raw and trembling and real. And it hit him harder than any divine strike ever had.
Because she was indeed right.
"...Rose."
Her name came out quietly.
"Hm?" She let out a small, broken sound, still bent close to him, her hand still resting against his cheek. Her fingers were warm. Slightly calloused from years of holding a staff she claimed she never wanted to touch again.
He gently reached up and wrapped his hand around hers. Not pulling it away. Just... holding it there.
Her breath hitched.
"...H-hic—"
A hiccup broke through her composure without warning, and she immediately pressed her free hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut.
Her shoulders shook once, twice.
Drip, drip...
The tears didn't stop.
