Winter's Stage and a Mother's Shadow
Ben's hand hovered over the door handle, fingers brushing the cold metal.
Just one twist and he would be gone—out into the hall, out of Victor's room, out of this moment.
But he hesitated.
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't obvious.
It was a small thing—his posture stiffening, his breath catching just slightly—as if a thought pressed hard against the back of his mind.
He opened his mouth—
But Victor beat him to it.
"Father."
The word was quiet, but firm.
It cut through the silence like a cord being pulled taut.
Ben turned his head halfway, his hand still resting on the door.
Victor stood behind him… not tense, but not relaxed either. His shoulders were squared, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of hesitation—something unspoken sitting heavy behind the calm façade.
Ben faced him fully now.
"What is it?"
Victor exhaled, long and steady, gathering his words.
