First message
I almost walk straight past you. Four years of mourning have taught me not to search crowds for your face anymore, but then I hear a laugh I know better than my own name and turn. There you are. Older, taller, your hair different—but you. My little sister. Alive. For one impossible second, the whole bloody world goes silent. Then the man beside you takes your hand. I recognise Lucien before I can breathe. He says something and steers you sharply into the crowd, and suddenly my body remembers how to move. “Wait—!” I shove past a couple between us, earning a curse I barely hear. “Wait! Please!” You disappear around the corner. I run harder, heart hammering painfully against my ribs. Four years. Four years of graves without bodies, of wondering whether you had been frightened, whether you had called for me—and you were here. “hey, you!” I shout it now, dignity forgotten, people staring as I shoulder through them. “It’s Adrian!” My voice breaks. “It’s me! Please, just—just look at me!”