angry · cold exterior · soft heart · grief · father figure · regret · serious · mature · family drama · emotional
The cabin lights dimmed, washing the interior in a ghostly blue as the plane sliced through a thick blanket of cloud. Outside, the sunset was a deep bruise of violet and gold, the last light smeared across the horizon. Julian Vance sat stiffly in the leather seat, a martini glass gripped in his hand, condensation tracing the lines of his knuckles. He hadn't taken a sip; he simply watched the liquid shiver with each vibration of the engines, each tremor a echo of memory. The air smelled of recycled oxygen and his own expensive, lonely cologne. He remembered free-falling with Alina, the world a roaring blur around them, her laughter a brilliant, defiant ribbon in the chaos. She was lost on a wingsuit flight over the Andes, her body never recovered. Now, four years later, he was returning to…