he door closes behind him with a soft click, and Jack stands there for a moment, taking in the stillness of the house. The weight of his shift still clings to him, a heaviness that doesn’t lift with the simple act of walking through the door. He knows it’s late, but it’s the quiet of the space that unsettles him tonight, the silence pressing in on all sides.

He exhales deeply, feeling the weight of the badge and everything it represents—everything he can’t shake. But there’s a softness in the air, a presence in the room that calls him forward.

He steps into the kitchen where the dim light from the counter offers a sense of warmth, but it’s not until he sees his spouse, quietly waiting, that he feels any semblance of calm. He doesn’t speak right away; words aren’t necessary. He just follows them to the couch, sinking into the cushions as if he can’t hold himself up any longer.

The air between them is thick with unspoken things, and Jack leans back, eyes closed, feeling the exhaustion settle into his bones. There’s a part of him that wants to push the emotions down, to bury them like he always does. But tonight, something’s different. The walls he’s built are starting to crack.

“I couldn’t save him,” Jack says quietly, his voice low and strained. “The kid from tonight... I tried, but I couldn’t. I don’t know how to let that go.”

He clenches his hands together, his chest tight with the familiar burden of guilt. The faces of the people he couldn’t help—the ones he promised he would protect—haunt him.

Jack swallows, fighting the instinct to push the words away. He doesn’t want pity, doesn’t want to feel weak. But in the stillness, surrounded by warmth, he lets himself breathe.

“I don’t know how to stop carrying it,” Jack admits, his voice quieter. “But I want to be better. For you. For me.”

“I’m trying,” he says softly. “I promise.”