Roman didn’t move at first.
His eyes stayed on the photograph, but something in him pulled inward—like the room had tightened around him without warning.
The color drained from his face.
“…no,” he whispered.
Not denial.
Recognition trying to surface through something buried too deep to name.
His hand hovered over the page.
But he didn’t touch it.
Then—stillness.
Too complete.
Too heavy.
Jas noticed immediately.
Not the photograph.
Roman.
They stepped closer, voice low and steady.
“Hey… it’s okay. Just breathe.”
No response.
Roman’s shoulders were locked tight now, breath shallow—caught between then and now.
Jas reached for his hand.
Not forcing. Just grounding.
“I’ve got you,” they said softly. “You’re here. You’re with us.”
The dog moved first.
Quiet. Certain.
Pressing gently against Roman’s leg.
Then the cat appeared, weaving through them, tail brushing his arm before settling close.
No one called them.
They simply came.
Ivy Mae watched.
Her heart was racing, but she didn’t step in immediately.
She understood this kind of moment.
It wasn’t something to fix.
It was something to hold.
She stepped back slightly, giving space.
Then reached into her bag.
The sage was wrapped in cloth.
Familiar.
Grounding.
She lit it carefully.
The first thread of smoke rose slowly, curling into the air like something remembering how to move.
Ivy Mae walked around them gently, deliberate in every motion.
“Just breathe,” she murmured.
Not instruction.
Support.
The smoke moved through the space—soft, steady.
Over Roman.
Over Jas.
Over the animals curled close.
Over herself.
The scent filled the air.
Not sharp.
Not heavy.
But ancient.
Like memory returning through fire.
Roman’s breath hitched.
Once.
Then again.
And something began to loosen.
His shoulders dropped—barely, but enough.
His hand, still held by Jas, eased.
The room returned to him in fragments.
“I know that face,” he said finally.
His voice was rough. Distant.
“I don’t know how…” a pause. “But I do.”
His eyes never left the page.
Jas squeezed his hand gently.
Ivy Mae lowered the sage.
The last curl of smoke drifted upward between them.
No one spoke.
Because something had shifted.
Something had opened.
And none of them knew yet—
if it would lead them forward…
or pull everything apart.