Cyril
The silence was comfortable, but it was also suffocating in a way. After everything that had happened, I didn’t know how to speak to Alan anymore. It felt like the words we needed to say were just too heavy to carry. But here we were—sitting across from each other in this strange suburban house that had somehow become our refuge, a place where the ghosts of the past could be faced, though not necessarily forgotten.
I glanced around the room, the soft light from the table lamp casting shadows on the walls. The house was simple, but it was warm, welcoming even, in its own quiet way. It was nothing like the grand manor we once lived in, yet it had its own charm.
Alan had said the manor was too full of memories—too full of ghosts—and this house, this quiet suburban home, was where he
