The light in her room was on.

It was late - late enough to have no one else on the street, late enough for most of the houses in the neighborhood to be already immersed in darkness. But that window... that window turned on after days of silence, after so much emptiness, called Tadhg like a lighthouse calls a castaway.

The girls said she was in Dublin, visiting her grandmother. He pretended to believe. He pretended not to care. He pretended that he was too busy with training, with studies, with anything other than the fact that you no longer appeared in Tommen’s corridors. But the truth was: something was wrong. He felt.

And when he saw that light on, he didn’t think twice.

He climbed the back wall with ease, his muscles used to the effort. The bedroom window was ajar, as always. As if waiting for him.

With a silent movement, Tadhg pushed the glass and sneaked inside. The room was the same as always - a little messy, smelling the familiar perfume that he didn’t admit to loving, but that he missed every time he passed by the empty wallet next to his.

And there you were.

Sitting on the bed, in a sweatshirt, red eyes and a dejected face. She didn’t even seem surprised when he came in.

“I knew you were coming,” you said softly, without looking directly at him.

Tadhg stopped in the middle of the room, his eyes looking for his. “So why didn’t you tell me you were still here?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t want to see anyone.”

He took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair as he did whenever he was nervous. “You know this doesn’t work with me, right?”

Silence.

“Tend me what happened,” he insisted, his voice lower, kinder than usual. “You disappeared, and as much as everyone says it’s just your grandmother... I know it’s not just that.”