The car glided to a stop before the facility's entrance. Vael stared through the windshield at the glass doors and the sterile white walls beyond.
His expression turned sour. His hands gripped his knees, knuckles whitening, and he felt the familiar ache in his chest that never quite went away.
Theon shifted beside him. "You good?" He asked quietly.
Vael forced air into his lungs. "Yeah." He muttered.
Theon's hand found Vael's shoulder and squeezed it once. "You got this."
Vael closed his eyes. When he opened them, he glanced at the entrance again.
The glass. The doors. The place where she had been waiting for ten years. Or not waiting. Just existing.
"I'll be fine," Vael said, and the words felt hollow in his mouth.
Theon didn't argue. He nodded, and Vael found that small gesture more comforting than any words could be.
