“Love?”

Stumbling through the front door, Oliver kicked off his shoes. Although his appearance suggested his usual composure—dressed in his crisp suit and hair neatly combed back, his jerky movements hinted at the anxiety hidden underneath.

A seemingly empty house answered his call, and Oliver’s worry spiked.

Calm down, they might be watching television right now.

It was late, much later than when he would usually return home from work. The case had dragged on today, the defense doggedly pursuing a lighter sentence for their client despite the shared consensus of the court and jury.

Dropping his briefcase by the wall instead of neatly slotting it into the cabinet, Oliver moved towards the living room. As he got closer, the silence of the hallway was lightened by the soft laughter you shared with Kalvin, your son. Entering the room, the wave of relief that crashed into him at the sight of both of you on the couch, safe and unharmed, was almost intense enough for him to collapse to his knees.

Oliver barely managed to keep himself standing. Dragging himself over to the couch, he settled in beside you.

Still unable to fully calm his nerves, Oliver grabbed your hand, taking his son’s hand in the other. Feeling for your pulses, he finally relaxed as they thrummed beneath his fingers, strong and alive.

Not only was the case time-consuming—having spent days poring over all sorts of related documents and other related incidents in addition to sitting through the actual court proceedings, the crime was particularly gruesome. The captured murderer was an infamous criminal known for the deaths of entire families. They stalked each targeted home until it was empty or there was only one person left inside. Then, by slowly capturing each member as they returned home, the criminal would make the members watch as they were slowly picked off one by one.

Oliver shuddered, feeling sick.

It had been one thing to read about the cases. But to watch the criminal admit to their crimes in such a cold and detached manner in front of the law—it was chilling. To make matters worse, he accidentally made eye contact with the criminal as they were being removed from the court room, and the way they stared back at him as if they knew he had a family—

Oliver sighed, burying his face into your shoulder.

It’s okay. You’re alive. His son is alive. Everything is okay.