Chapter 372

He stepped into the bedroom.

Adrian was sitting on the floor with his back to the door, surrounded by broken model pieces scattered across the carpet. Among them was the shredded remains of a lantern, once painted with little animals.

Lysander remembered.

Nathaniel's young nephew had just started school a while back and had gotten along with Adrian rather well; he'd even given Adrian a lantern decorated with animals. Thinking back, it was probably Mila who painted it before giving it to Adrian as a gift.

Adrian had loved it at the time-he'd even found a special box to keep it safe.

But now, it lay torn to bits among the mess.

He must be truly upset.

Lysander didn't rush to comfort the heartbroken child. Instead, he pulled over a chair and sat down, looking down at Adrian's turned back with a calm, unreadable expression.

"Have you been crying?"

"I haven't!" Adrian shot back instantly, though his voice trembled.

"Are you upset?"

"I'm not!"

"It's alright to cry if you're sad. This time, you can let it out."

"I don't want to cry."

Adrian insisted stubbornly, but his resolve cracked as soft, choked sobs escaped him. After a long moment, he finally whispered, voice raw with hurt, "Dad, does Mom not like me anymore? Does she not want me?"

"...Of course not."

"But she doesn't comfort me anymore. She goes to other kids-instead of me, she goes to that Julian! I hate him!"

her child," Lysander replied

hands. "But Julian called

hair. His voice was measured, almost gentle. "And if she did

Adrian didn't answer.

great-grandfather and I taught you? What should you do

a whisper.

never see her again?" Lysander's

"I don't want that!"

suddenly, shouting. His eyes, so much like his father's, were wide and red, filled with

down as he gently ruffled Adrian's hair. His voice dropped low. "Adrian,

his father's hand away. "I'm just

let out a quiet

lot already. At the

"Adrian."

strength behind them, they're useless. They only show everyone

can't afford to be

eyes filled

his words. “Dad,

"Of course I can."

help you once or twice. Do you really want to

you before. Your great-grandfather told you,

"I haven't!"

do you know

dropped his head,

nor did he leave. He simply picked up the laptop Leonard had brought in earlier, sat

in the room were the faint clicking of

and son had always interacted a quiet, gentle kind of closeness,

the silence

by unnoticed until Harper's voice drifted in from the hallway, breaking the unusual calm. “Sir, Ms.

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