Chapter 29

Back at the townhouse that now seemed hollow without Trina, Julian locked himself in a darkened bedroom and pulled every curtain shut, shutting out all light and sound from the outside world. Empty liquor bottles lay scattered across the floor, and the air was thick with the scent of alcohol and the heavy weight of his despair. He sat on the floor with his back against the bed, tightly clutching a photo of Trina from her teenage years, taken secretly in the Flarora Rose Garden, its edges already yellowed with age. Beside him sat a small recording device that kept looping a faint melody Trina had once hummed at home on a good day, a sound he had captured without her ever knowing. That crisp yet slightly lazy tune now cut through him like the sharpest blade, carving the same wound over and over again. At times, he let out a cracked, unhinged laugh. Other times, he buried his face against his knees and released muffled whimpers, small and raw like a wounded animal. When a guard brou