Chapter 45

SEBASTIAN

The sky had the kind of grey you don’t just see—you feel. It hung low, stretched like damp wool over the city, heavy with unshed rain. Fitting, really. Even the weather knew what kind of day it was.

The drive to the orphanage was quiet. Not silent—just quiet in the kind of way grief makes space for. Dahlia didn’t say anything. She just leaned her head slightly against the window, eyes half-lidded, like she was trying to memorize every passing tree and power line in case the world decided to change overnight.

I wanted to ask her what she meant earlier about being familiar with funerals. I didn’t.

She didn’t talk.

I didn’t push.

When we pulled up to the orphanage gates, a few kids were already gathered at the entrance. They weren’t laughing or playing like they usually would. Most had their heads lowered, hands clutching black flowers or old shoes polished to an unrecognizable shine. A few adults moved between them, directing, murmuring, t