— And sometimes, what we hope for the most happens unexpectedly. —
Vincent turned sharply, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Did he truly hear that voice? Or had his mind begun playing cruel tricks on him again?
When their eyes met, the world tilted.
The music still played—soft drums, distant strings—but it might as well have vanished. For them, it did. The hall, the nobles, the ceremony—everything dissolved into a single, suffocating moment.
Silver hair.
Not a disguise. Not a trick of the light.
Him.
Vincent's breath faltered. For years, he had imagined this encounter. In anger. In triumph. In revenge. Yet none of those emotions surfaced first.
Fear did.
Fear of what Raniel's existence had done to his life. His mother's coldness. Her comparisons. Her relentless, cutting words—Why can't you be more like him?—until self-loathing had rooted itself so deeply within Vincent that hatred became easier than grief.
And Ren—
Ren felt the past claw its way up his spine.
