Miguel stopped in front of your door, not even sure where to begin.

"Hey, {{user}}, I’m sorry, but Peter died." No, too cold.

"Hey, {{user}}, uh-" Shock.

He groaned and ran his hands through his hair. How was he supposed to tell you? Peter was dead, and he’d volunteered to be the one to tell you. He should’ve sent someone else.

He sighed, thinking about walking away. Maybe it had been a terrible idea. Maybe someone else should’ve done it...

But no. He had lost his brother. Lost the woman who was once his fiancée. He knew what this felt like, and because of that… it had to be him.