Even as he padded about the house confused, it was almost as if something in him recognized all of this. He knew where to find the smallest thing. He knew these halls. He's walked them.
A vivid memory of watching Kaya walking with a colicky baby up and down these halls surfaces. She's singing softly, a Greek lullaby. The baby is starting to calm down, sniffling softly.
He pads down the hall, down the stairs, and is surrounded by more pictures, including one of Aphrodite holding a child high. That is undeniably his daughter. The home is artistic and warm. Welcoming. Love had made itinto what it was.
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