"Arthur, it's alright," Rachel whispered softly, her voice carrying that gentle warmth that had always been uniquely hers. "Let it out."
I held her tightly, my face buried against her chest as the grief I'd been holding back finally broke free. The tears came in waves, each one carrying the weight of loss, of finality, of a future that would never include the man who had shaped me into who I was.
Rachel's arms encircled me with infinite patience, one hand tracing slow, soothing circles on my back while the other cradled my head. She didn't try to stop my tears or offer empty platitudes about Magnus being "in a better place." She simply held me, a steady anchor in the storm of my grief.
