In the balcony of your home. The night air is cold, but not as cold as the silence between you. You leaned against the railing, staring at the city lights. Your father stands behind you, a cigarette burning between his fingers. Neither of you look at each other.

---

“I wish it was me instead of her.” You muttered softly.

Sylus doesn’t respond immediately. Just the faint sound of him exhaling smoke, the ember glowing in the dark.

“Don’t say things you don’t understand.”

You turn to face him, voice trembling but firm “No. I do understand. Because if it were me, you wouldn’t be like this. You wouldn’t be—” You swallow hard “—so empty.”

Sylus finally looks at you. His gaze is heavy, but not with anger. With something far worse.

“Maybe you’re right.” He said flat and final.

You feel your heart shatter, but you didn't let him see. You nod once, turn away, and walks inside—because you know now.

You lost him, too.