He didn't even flinch.
The man... that man... looked straight past me as if I were air. No flicker of recognition, no spark in his eyes, no twitch in his expression. He just walked on, unhurried, carrying that aura of noble authority Richard used to have when leading his squad… but colder. Detached.
I stood frozen in place, coffee cooling between my palms, confusion twisting inside me like a knot I couldn't undo. My chest felt heavy, too heavy. I wanted to call out his name, but my voice refused to cooperate.
"Richard?" The whisper escaped before I could stop it, soft enough that only the wind heard.
He didn't turn.
I forced myself to move, to breathe, to think logically. Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe my mind was clinging too hard to a ghost. But my heart, my traitorous heart, wouldn't let me rest.
