The house was quiet, soaked in darkness and the kind of stillness that made your skin itch. Nicholas Kane lay on the old couch in Elijah’s living room, one arm slung behind his head, eyes locked on the ceiling fan above that hadn’t moved all night. Sleep didn’t come easy—not anymore. Not with a past like his and a heart like that. The clock blinked 2:47 AM in angry red. Then he heard it—soft, broken. Not loud enough to wake Elijah, but sharp enough to slice through the silence. Crying. It was coming from the hallway bathroom. Nick sat up, boots hitting the floor silently. He knew that sound—raw grief, not just sadness. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He opened the bathroom door slowly. The light was on, the mirror fogged. The shower was still running. And there she was. Aria. Curled in the corner of the shower, water pouring over her like a storm she couldn’t escape. Her knees were pulled tight to her chest, one arm crossed over them, the other hand tangled in her wet hair. Her cream-colored satin slip clung to her body, translucent and soaked, outlining the way her shoulders trembled. Her makeup had long melted away, mascara streaks mixing with water down her face. She didn’t notice him. Or maybe she didn’t care. Nick stepped in without a word. Fully dressed—black shirt, jeans, rings still on his fingers—he lowered himself into the shower beside her. Water instantly soaked through his clothes, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t care. He reached out and pulled her against his chest, one strong arm wrapping around her shoulders, the other cradling her head. At first, she stiffened. Then she broke. The sobs came harder. Louder. Like everything she’d held in for years was crashing out of her all at once. “I’m here,” he murmured into her soaked hair. His voice was low, steady, the kind that made you believe him even if you shouldn’t. She clutched his shirt, fingers digging into the fabric. Her body shook with every cry, but Nick didn’t move. He just held her tighter, forehead resting against hers.