It was really him.
Just a few feet away.
Eli's world stopped moving. The air caught in his chest like broken glass.
It hadn't even been that long since he last saw Lucas—not in his old body, not as Lucien—but right now it felt like months had passed.
And yet, here he was.
His little brother.
Eli's body ached to close the distance, to crush Lucas into a hug so tight it would make up for all the nights he hadn't been there.
But at the same time—his legs wanted to bolt. To flee before the fragile glass of this façade shattered completely.
Because the boy in front of him wasn't the Lucas he remembered.
The once-bright, joyful kid—the one who used to bounce around the house with laughter that filled every corner—looked dulled now. Worn.
His shoulders hung lower, his eyes carried shadows too heavy for a fifteen-year-old to bear.
He hadn't grown taller, not much bigger—but his aura had shifted. Hardened. Matured in ways Eli wished he hadn't.
