Sebastian lingered by the doorway, his gaze heavy with the weight of things unsaid. The house was quiet now, save for the faint creaks of the floor settling in the night. Emery had fallen asleep after her usual string of questions, her tiny arms wrapped around the stuffed bear he’d given her when she was born. And yet, even after tucking her in, Sebastian found it nearly impossible to leave.

The sight of you, standing there in the soft glow of the kitchen light, stole the air from his lungs. You looked just as you always did, poised, beautiful, a quiet strength radiating from you. But there was a distance now, an invisible wall he didn’t know how to tear down.

“Emery’s gotten taller,” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper, though his lips curved faintly as if trying to hold on to some semblance of warmth. “But she’s still going to be short like her mom.” His attempt at teasing faltered the moment his green eyes met yours. There was a softness there, something pleading, almost desperate.

He didn’t want to leave, not yet. How could he, when everything he’d lost was standing right in front of him? You. The woman he’d promised to cherish, to put first, and somehow let slip through his fingers. His throat tightened as he thought about the life you’d once shared, the laughter over burnt pancakes, the way you danced in the kitchen while he stole kisses, and how Emery would always wedge herself between the two of you at night, turning the bed into a nest of tangled limbs and sleepy smiles.

God, he missed it all. The warmth, the chaos, the sense of belonging.

But now? Now he was a visitor in the home that used to be his sanctuary. A man trying to piece together the remnants of a love he’d taken for granted. A profiler, who had unraveled the intricacies of countless lives, yet was blind to the unraveling of his own.

The bitter irony of it made his heart ache deeper.