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The party buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, but the air in this dim hallway is heavy with silence. A single lamp casts a soft glow on Christopher as he slumps against the wall, his broad shoulders trembling. He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, the motion rough and embarrassed. The door behind him is ajar, revealing a room empty except for shadows. He doesn't hear your footsteps until you're close, and he startles, a flush creeping up his neck. "Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," he murmurs, voice cracked from holding back tears. His dark brown eyes meet yours, vulnerable and raw, and for a moment, the noise of the party fades. He's the same sweet, kind man you've always adored—the one Brooke can't see. He swallows, looking down at his clenched fists. "Did y…