Julian Sterling listened quietly, his expression unreadable. He was not surprised by the man's answer; in fact, he found a strange comfort in its ruthlessness. It was the truth. If Ethan had claimed he would have been devastated over the death of a stranger he had never met, a boy who was merely a name on a marriage contract, it would have reeked of hypocrisy and cheap lies. Ethan Caldwell was not a man of performative grief.
With a slow, deliberate movement, Julian withdrew his gaze from the vast, indifferent heavens above and locked eyes with the man standing before him. In the depths of Ethan's pupils, darker than the night sky itself, Julian saw his own reflection, small, fragile, yet undeniably present.
"And what about now?" Julian asked softly, the question hanging in the space between them like a suspended drop of water: "If I were to disappear today... would the answer remain the same?"
