LYSANDER
The hallway to my father's study stretched longer than it should have. Each step carried weight I couldn't shake, and my hands stayed buried in my pockets where nobody could see them trembling. The tie I'd wrapped around them earlier still sat folded in my jacket, a reminder of decisions I'd already made but hadn't acted on yet.
I stopped outside the door and steadied my breathing before knocking.
"Come in."
His voice cut through the wood, sharp and commanding even through the barrier. I pushed the door open and found him exactly where I expected: hunched over his desk, surrounded by papers and documents that looked like they'd been there for hours. The lamp cast harsh shadows across his face and made the angles sharper than they already were.
He didn't look up when I entered.
"Would you not be coming for dinner?"
