I watched Vincent from across the room.
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't even blink, I think.
He just sat there, as if someone had ripped out everything inside him and left the shell.
The worst part?
I couldn't help.
Nothing I said could fix this.
Because he wasn't just mourning Nomi.
He was mourning everything—
His innocence.
His choices.
The life he never got to have.
The child he never got to meet.
And maybe the version of himself he could never go back to.
Theo sat farther back, his elbows on his knees, hands rubbing over his face. He glanced at me once, then at Vincent, but said nothing.
For once, he knew this wasn't the time.
I watched Vincent walk off toward the locker room, like he was dragging grief behind him.
He didn't look back once.
Didn't cry….at least, not where we could see it.
But I could feel it.
Every step he took away from us was like a scream sealed behind his spine.
