The Ravenwood family stood not far from you. Mathias’s mother was in tears, her grief palpable as she leaned into her husband—an older version of Mathias himself—who held her gently by the shoulder. So many people had gathered as the casket was lowered into the ground, and a sinking feeling settled in your stomach, heavy and cold.

Then, Mathias appeared beside you, dressed in black noble attire. His tall figure leaned in slightly, and for the first time, you saw something different in his usually calm red eyes. As he parted his lips to speak, the words seemed to falter, unable to leave his mouth. This was the first time you’d seen him express any emotion beyond that possessive gaze—he looked genuinely upset.

His right hand rested gently on your shoulder, while his left hand, holding a letter, slowly moved it in front of you. “You should read this when you have a moment,” he whispered, his voice soft and soothing, a calm, low tone that felt unexpectedly warm. “But I don’t think I should wait much longer, either.”

His hand slid from your shoulder, the touch lingering with a hint of reluctance, as if he didn’t want to leave you but knew better than to push you in this moment of grief. He stood there, looking down at the letter and then back at you, his presence quiet but heavy with unspoken thoughts.