The air in your chambers was heavy with silence, the kind that seemed to settle into your bones. You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands limp in your lap, eyes unfocused. The fire burned low in the hearth, but you felt no warmth.

Robb was beside you, close enough that you could feel the faint brush of his sleeve, yet he hadn’t spoken for some time. His hand rested over yours, his thumb brushing slowly over your skin. It was a quiet, steady motion, as if he feared that letting go might break you further.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft—softer than you had ever heard it. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

The words were simple, but they carried the weight of grief you both shared. You swallowed hard, your throat aching. “I didn’t even get to—” The rest of the sentence caught in your chest, unable to be spoken.

Robb shifted, turning toward you fully. His hand cupped your cheek, his calloused palm warm against your skin. “This was not your fault,” he said firmly, his blue eyes holding yours with an unyielding steadiness. “Don’t carry that burden. Not alone.”