'Tristan.'
It really was him.
My heart didn't know what to do with itself. Relief, grief, something like hope — all of it tangled together at the sight of a familiar face. Someone who knew. Someone who understood what we'd lost.
He pulled me into a hug before I could say anything, one hand patting my back in that awkward way men comfort each other when words aren't enough.
"You must have been through so much, coming here," he said.
So much was an understatement. But that wasn't even the main thing — not right now. I pulled back from him, the question already spilling out.
"Lira… what about Lira…"
A somber look crept across his face. When he spoke, his voice carried something wounded.
"I laid them all to rest. We can go see them together sometime."
I nodded.
"Definitely."
He glanced around us, searching for one more person, and his tone turned grim.
"What about Emma?"
