'No…'
Florian's breath hitched the moment he saw Cashew's face—eyes hesitant, lips pressed into a trembling line. He recognized that look all too well. It was the look someone wore when they were about to say something that would shatter you.
'Don't say it. Please don't say it.'
Cashew approached slowly, arms full of clothes, but his steps felt heavy, uncertain. The butterflies trailed behind him, fluttering in delicate swirls—Twinkle, Dewdrop, Shimmie, Blinky, Mimiwing... but one was missing.
'Where's Luluwing?'
Florian's pulse quickened. His stomach twisted. He tried to hold on to hope, just for a second.
From what he remembered, Luluwing had been injured—his delicate wing torn by Alexandria's cruel hands. When Florian was taken, he had left the poor creature resting on a blooming flower in the garden—their favorite spot.
He had hoped... hoped that he'd be okay.
'Please don't say it… '
