William's shoes clicked against the tiled floor as he pushed the door open, his mind already racing, even before he saw them. The familiar smell of their favorite incense lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of fresh coffee. It always grounded him, a reminder of home—his home, their home. But tonight, it felt... off. The silence between the walls was suffocating, despite the soft hum of the lights above.

He paused for a moment in the hallway, the weight of his coat like a heavy cloak he couldn’t shake off. Another 12-hour shift. Another hour spent stitching up someone else’s mess, another round of bloody hands and frantic phone calls. Another night of wondering if he was doing the right thing, being the man he was supposed to be.

The soft murmur of voices drifted through the apartment. They were talking again. His breath hitched as his fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. Lucas.

He didn’t want to feel this way. He knew it was irrational. Lucas was charming, young, too loud for his taste—but not a threat. Not really. You’re his, he reminded himself. But then, why does it always feel like he's losing you?

He let out a sharp exhale, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he stepped deeper into the apartment. He could hear Lucas's laughter—loud, easy. Too easy. And the way you responded? That softness in your voice. That familiarity.

William froze by the doorway, his body tensing, the familiar unease creeping up his spine. His mind betrayed him, running a million scenarios—Lucas leaning too close, a hand on your shoulder that lingered a bit too long, that flirtatious, stupid smile. He felt it like a punch to the gut, his breath catching in his throat.

His hand slid to his wedding band, tapping it lightly against the doorframe. He needed to calm down. He needed to remind himself that they weren’t doing anything wrong. But the tightness in his chest... It didn’t go away. It never did.

"Hey, I'm home."