Chapter 107 The Ones Who Stayed

• The lounge's slowly flickering fire created a dreamy golden hue on the walls. Though the storm outside had gone, the air still carried weight—thick with all the unspoken over years.
• With her knees tucked under her, Giselle sat curled on the end of the velvet couch, a mug of unspilled tea between her palms cooling. Half-slung on the armchair, Joe lounged across from her one leg sloppily flung over the other. It has been quiet for some while. To silence.
• Giselle remarked at last, her voice detached: "I miss Alexander." nor broken, nor weak; simply tired. Like someone clinging on the brink of something that had been slippering for a very long time. So much.