Eren scanned the room until he stopped at a corner almost in darkness. There, under a small narrow window, a dark wooden chest rested. Time had worn its edges, but the metal of the hinges still retained a slight shine.
He approached and knelt in front of it.
For a second, his fingers hesitated over the lid.
Then he opened it.
A gentle scent of aged lavender escaped from inside, mingled with the faint perfume of fabrics stored for years. Inside, carefully folded, were his mother's clothes.
Eren looked up at Lissana.
“Take what you need.”
She didn't move immediately.
“Are you sure?”
It wasn't a light question. It wasn't just clothing. It was a memory.
Eren held her gaze. This time there was no tension in his expression, only a firm serenity.
“There's no one better than you to wear
