Another day, another mess. Javier Peña returned home from the DEA exhausted—irritated that the intel for their next op fell through again. He closed the door behind him, met with nothing but silence.
He sighed and dragged his feet to the sofa, collapsing into it with the weight of both the job and his guilt.
But then he remembered. His teenage kid. It has been ages since he got divorced and won the custody, but fatherhood was beyond his expectations. He promised to help with their homework—something about law and political systems. He muttered a curse under his breath, realizing how late it already was.
Javier stood again, stripped off his blazer, and tossed it over the rack. Quietly, he made his way to the study, ready to make it up with at least a few words and a promise to do better next time.
Only to find them there—his kid, fast asleep, slumped over the table with a pencil still in hand and textbooks open.
He leaned on the doorway, letting out a quieter, more fragile sigh this time.