Alaric's heart tightened as he squeezed the wristwatch in his palm.
He heard nothing.
He saw nothing.
His heart pounded loudly in his chest, and for a moment, he thought it would leap out.
He was back there.
Back in Australia, six years ago.
He had become that small, terrified boy who had left home.
The boy whose dreams were shattered. Whose reputation had been destroyed.
Yet, he hoped. As he held onto his mother's favorite wristwatch, he hoped everything would be okay.
He hoped the wristwatch symbolized his mother's love for him.
He hoped it meant she understood.
He hoped it meant he was not alone.
He hoped it meant they would be reunited as a family again.
Alaric opened his eyes, his hand twitching as he held onto the wristwatch.
It was strange how an inanimate object could jog memories, could awaken things he had long buried.
He sighed as he traced the face of the wristwatch. It had cracked.
