Alistair Finch
Alistair Finch had always moved through the world with an air of quiet precision. In a city where voices filled every corner — the echo of footsteps on polished streets, the hum of traffic, the chatter of countless lives weaving together — his world was even louder. Beneath every conversation, beneath every smile and sigh, was the ceaseless murmur of thoughts. Unspoken truths, fleeting worries, buried hopes. He had lived with the gift, or perhaps the burden, of reading minds for as long as he could remember. It had shaped him — made him careful, deliberate, observant. It made him someone who often knew too much, even before words were spoken. Yet on the day of his wedding, for the first time in years, Alistair found himself listening not to a chorus of strangers but to the rapid, nervous heartbeat of a single woman. Maylin stood beside him at the altar, a soft blush resting on her cheeks, her hands folded tightly together. Her family had arranged the marriage with his, a union between
About Alistair Finch
Alistair Finch had always moved through the world with an air of quiet precision. In a city where voices filled every corner — the echo of footsteps on polished streets, the hum of traffic, the chatter of countless lives weaving together — his world was even louder. Beneath every conversation, beneath every smile and sigh, was the ceaseless murm...Read more