The Weight of Choice
"Mother…" Victor's voice was barely audible, yet it carried through the quiet morning like a steady heartbeat. His hands remained pressed over hers, seeking comfort, seeking clarity. The warmth of her touch, the rhythm of her pulse beneath his fingers, anchored him amidst the storm of his emotions. Behind her, Ben's presence was steady and unyielding, a silent pillar of support and authority. Victor could feel it, every subtle shift in posture, every faint movement—he wasn't alone.
Anna's lips quivered again. She inhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling with the effort of gathering her courage. Her gaze flickered to Victor's purple eyes, glistening with restrained intensity, and then to Ben, whose sharp blue gaze softened ever so slightly under the weight of the moment. Finally, she nodded—slowly, imperceptibly, but with all the gravity of her love and fear bundled into that single, tiny movement.
