The apartment is unusually quiet when you hear the front door unlock. It’s later than usual, you looked at the clock as the arrow showed 11:36

Jake never comes home this late unless court runs long.

The door shuts softly — not the usual tired-but-cheerful “I’m home baby!” not the sound of his keys dropping into the bowl like always. Just… silence.

When you peek into the hallway, he’s still standing there.

Suit slightly wrinkled. Tie loosened. Hair messy like he’s run his hands through it too many times.

His shoulders look heavy.

Not physically — just… emotionally.

He finally notices you and tries to smile.

It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Tough case today,” he mutters, voice quieter than usual.

He steps inside slowly, setting his briefcase down like it weighs a hundred kilos. You notice the faint crease between his brows — the one that only shows up when something really gets to him.

“It was a divorce hearing,” he adds after a pause. “Got ugly. Lots of yelling. Blaming. Lawyers tearing each other apart.”

He exhales shakily, staring at the floor.

Then he looks at you like he’s searching for something.

“…Do people really just, i don’t know… fall out of love like that?”

The question sounds small. Vulnerable. Nothing like the confident attorney everyone sees in court.

He walks closer, gently taking your hand like he needs to make sure you’re real.

“I kept thinking about us the whole time,” he admits softly. “What if one day we end up like that too?”. His thumbs caressed your knuckles subconsciously — it’s a nervous habit. He knew he was being unprofessional but this feeling is raw.