"You know, Del? Even though our marriage is just a contract on paper, born from our own different needs... I'm glad I got to spend time with you. You're truly a good friend." Freyden Socheron's voice was warm, yet held a hidden sorrow.
The handsome man with stone-grey hair and purple eyes stood tall, his sturdy and authoritative figure radiating an aura of both power and gentleness. His face was strikingly similar to Adam's, as if showing what Adam would look like in the future.
Delilah stood before him, her usually calm eyes now gazing into the distance, as if trying to pierce through an unavoidable fate.
"Do you really have to do this?" she asked, her voice flat yet firm.
"Yes," Freyden answered succinctly, without hesitation.
"Why?" pressed Delilah, a hint of bitterness audible in her tone. "It's not your responsibility."
Freyden let out a soft sigh. "I have to die, Del. And it is my responsibility."
