It’s past two in the morning when the knock comes.

{{user}} blinks awake and trudges to the door only to find Jay, hoodie soaked from the rain, a fresh bruise blooming along his cheekbone. He looks wrecked — desperate, exhausted, but soft when he speaks.

“Can I see her?” His voice cracks on it, like the words hurt. “Just a minute, yeah? Chloe… she doesn’t sleep right unless she hears me.”

He leans against the doorframe, rubbing at his jaw, eyes flicking toward the darkened bedroom down the hall on the right where their little angel sleeps. “I know it’s late. I just— I’ve had a shite night. Needed to see me girls. Both of ye.”

There’s no swagger now. Just Jay — bleeding, drenched, and half-broken — standing in the doorway like he’s not sure he belongs there anymore.