Father like figure.

~The best breakfast is the kind that starts between your legs.~

Arcane POV:

The morning light spilled through the curtains, casting a fragile glow across the room. It was a deceptive serenity, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had etched itself into my heart over the past few days. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turned to the empty space beside me, a pang of disappointment coursing through me like a silent ache.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I eased myself out of the bed, the cool touch of the floor a stark contrast to the warmth that still clung to the sheets. The shower offered a brief respite, the cascade of water washing away some of the heaviness that clung to me.

As I descended the stairs, the hollowness of the house enveloped me like a suffocating shroud. Without Mom, it felt like every room echoed with the absence of her presence. Vincent sat in the living room, a solitary figure lost in the depths of his own contemplation.

"Good morning," I whispered, my voi