The idyllic scene under the oak tree, the laughter of a child who was whole, the peace of a woman who was loved, began to vibrate with a frequency that set my teeth on edge. It was too beautiful. It was a masterpiece of "what-if," a sanctuary built from the wreckage of two lives.
I stood there, a ghost in the grass, and felt the first wave hit. It wasn't anger. It wasn't even the searing heat of the Pyronox. It was a profound, unmeasurable sadness that felt as though a mountain had been placed upon my chest. My knees buckled. I didn't fall so much as I simply ceased to be able to carry the weight of my own existence. I collapsed into the grass, my fingers digging into the emerald soil. It felt real. It felt soft.
I couldn't look away from the dream-version of myself. She was laughing as Rael tumbled into her lap. Caelen was smiling, a real smile, not the desperate, haunted mask he wore in the palace.
