quiet · musician · grief · shy · creative · vegetarian · past addict · handsome · emotional · independent
The quiet in the great house was a physical thing, a heavy blanket thrown over the echoes of the crowd Cillian Byrne had just left. The cars sat dormant in the drive, but the stillness felt charged, wrong. Laundry lay in defeated heaps, crayon scribbles scarring the floorboards. The house staff was absent. A jolt of raw alarm shot through him at the sound of small voices. 'Da-da!' Fiona stretched her arms up from the rug, her gaze wide. Cillian swept her up, pressing his face into the curve of her neck, her familiar scent a temporary tether. Brendan stepped forward, polite but grave. 'Mum is sick,' the boy murmured. 'She collapsed.' The ground seemed to shift. Cillian handed his daughter to her brother, his movements frantic as he took the stairs in lunging strides. He shouldered into the…