Eve
The next morning was overcast, the sky hanging low like it knew what we were about to do.
I sat on the edge of the bed, fingers trembling slightly as I buttoned Elliot's shirt. His small frame was still sleepy, his eyes bleary but trusting as he tilted his head to let me adjust his collar.
He didn't ask questions. He never did.
Not with words.
But his eyes always asked enough for both of us.
The suit hung loosely on his shoulders—tailored, yes, but still foreign to him. He'd never worn black before. Not like this. Not with meaning.
He kicked his feet a little as he sat on the wooden chest at the foot of my bed, clutching his favorite carved wolf figurine in one hand. The other rested quietly in his lap.
I reached for the tie.
The dark navy one Hades had chosen.
But it felt… heavier today. Like grief had woven itself between the threads.
