Wil's sigh was long, quiet, and heavy. He gently reached out and took Luoyang's trembling hand in his. The warmth of his fingers was calm, steady, utterly different from the storm of emotions she'd just released.
"Look at me," he said softly.
Luoyang hesitated but turned, her eyes still lowered.
"No. Really look at me." He said.
She finally raised her eyes to meet his.
"All my childhood," Wil began, taking her hands into his, "I grew up without a mother. The woman who gave birth to me abandoned me. She didn't write, didn't visit, didn't call—not once. I didn't even know what she looked like, Luoyang. Not until I tracked her down myself. And when I did find her? She had a new family. A new life. A happy one."
His voice wavered slightly, but he pushed through.
