𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐀
Zayne gave a thoughtful, heavy pause, letting the name settle into the quiet room. He was giving me space to let it sink in fully, and I took the chance. I closed my eyes tightly beneath the harsh overhead lights, trying desperately to construct a face in the dark, but none came. I tried to remember the simple touch of skin, a hummed lullaby, the cadence of a voice—anything tangible buried beneath the layers of my manipulated memory.
But, of course, I came up entirely empty. There was only a vast, echoing silence where a mother's warmth should have lived.
When the agonizing moment passed, Zayne's gravelly baritone went on, his fingers turning another thick page.
