The door had barely clicked shut when the silence in the house thickened. It wasn't the comforting kind.
It was sharp-edged and lingering—like something unsaid had just filled the air between them.
Billy stood near the couch, shoulders slightly hunched, arms folded across his chest.
He hadn't moved since Mr. Frank left, as if his feet were rooted to that moment.
Artur leaned against the doorframe, his gaze steady on Billy, though his jaw was tight. He didn't speak right away.
Finally, it was Billy who broke the stillness. His voice was low, unsure.
"…That man… he really knew me."
Artur gave a quiet nod. "Yeah. He did."
Billy looked down at his hands. "He called me Leo. Like it was who I was. And I—" He paused, then shook his head slowly. "I didn't feel it."
Artur pushed off the doorframe and took a few steps closer, but not too close. "It's not your fault. You didn't choose to forget."
