Lavender smells like Grief.

Cyrus' point of view

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of our room, casting soft streaks on the wooden floor. But there was no warmth in that light, no comfort to be found in its embrace. I stood in the doorway, watching Baekalis as she sat on the edge of the bed, her back to me, her shoulders hunched and trembling. Her fingers clutched the bed sheets so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.

I swallowed hard, feeling the lump in my throat grow thicker with each passing second. My heart ached, a deep, relentless pain that I couldn’t shake. My children were gone—taken by someone we had trusted. And now, Baekalis was breaking before my eyes, and I had no idea how to stop it.

“Baekalis,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a rasp. I took a tentative step into the room, but she didn’t react. It was as if she didn’t even hear me. “Baekalis, my love, please… talk to me.”

She was silent, her body rigid, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. I could feel the d