✴ Damien ✴
The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink as I walked up the familiar path to my father’s house. Wintervale had a way of making sunsets feel like a masterpiece, each brushstroke a reminder of how much I had missed this place. The crisp air carried the scent of pine and distant chimneys, and the snow crunched under my boots with each step. It was peaceful, grounding in a way the city never was. Wintervale felt like home again. A realization that both comforted and unsettled me. My father was standing on the porch, a steaming mug in hand. He raised it in greeting, his silhouette outlined by the warm glow of the house behind him.
“You are early,” my father said, his voice carried a mix of surprise and amusement. “I wasn’t expecting you until dinner time,”
“Figured I would c
