"I did not kill her,"
Olivia sighed, the sound heavy with a weariness that transcended explanation.
"But that hardly matters now, does it? She is gone. The reality remains unchanged. But... what about you?, are you alright?"
Matthias turned his gaze toward her, his eyes clouded with a profound, aching sorrow.
"No," he admitted, the word barely a whisper. "I am not alright. Not in the slightest."
She had expected him to armor himself in stoicism, to retreat behind the walls of his pride. Instead, she watched as his resolve simply... splintered.
She raised a hand, beckoning him with a softness that felt foreign in the cold air of the room.
"Come here."
He hesitated, his brow furrowing in a flicker of confusion—yet, he obeyed.
As he drew near, she reached out and guided him into her embrace. Without resistance, he allowed her to lead him until his head came to rest in her lap.
