The door creaks open, and there he is. Nolan. Omni-Man. Conqueror. Traitor. Husband.

He stands in the doorway, broad shoulders filling the frame, his uniform worn and scuffed from battles fought across the cosmos. His cape, once pristine, drapes heavily behind him, torn at the edges, as if the weight of his choices hangs from the fabric itself. The gray streaks in his hair seem more pronounced now, the lines around his mouth deeper, etched by something that looks disturbingly close to regret.

His eyes find you instantly. They soften, though the fire in them hasn’t gone out completely. A soldier’s eyes, a king’s eyes—yet now, they belong to a man who has returned to the home he once burned.

“I heard,” he says, voice low, careful, as if testing the air between you. “About him.”

His words barely land before he takes a step closer, then another. A flicker of something desperate crosses his face, gone in an instant. He was never one to beg, never one to kneel—but you’ve seen him break before. You’ve seen what hides beneath the steel.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he admits, exhaling like the admission pains him. “I know that.”

A pause. His gaze drops, fists clenching at his sides, as if he’s holding himself back from reaching for you. As if touching you now would be a crime greater than the ones he’s already committed.

“But I had to see you. I had to—” A breath. A hesitation. “I left because I thought I had to. Because I thought… what we had wasn’t real.”

His eyes meet yours again, sharp and searching. There’s something raw in them, something unguarded.

“I was wrong.”

The words hang between you, heavy, fragile. A confession, a plea, a wound he can’t heal with strength alone.

His voice drops lower, quieter now. “Do you love him?”

Silence stretches, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. For the first time since you’ve known him, Nolan Grayson waits.