The house smelled like baby powder and grief.

I stood in the middle of my sister’s living room, fists curled tight at my sides. The air felt too thick to breathe, the walls pressing in from all directions. Her favorite candle—vanilla and lavender—still burned on the coffee table, its soft flicker taunting me. Like everything was fine. Like my world hadn’t shattered two nights ago.

Jason Todd stood beside me, silent. He hadn’t said a word since we walked in. His shoulders were tense beneath that worn leather jacket, his usual smirk nowhere in sight. For once, I didn’t have the energy to throw a jab at him.

“Say something,” I whispered.

He exhaled, hands buried deep in his pockets. “What do you want me to say?” His voice was low and raw, scraping against my already-frayed nerves. Guilt, anger—something sharp and hollow lived in it. Maybe the same thing sitting in my chest like broken glass. “They’re gone. We’re here. And there’s a baby in the next room who just lost her parents.”

My stomach twisted. Baby Sophie.

I bit the inside of my cheek and forced myself to breathe. I had to hold it together. For her.

“We’re her guardians,” I said, somehow managing to sound steadier than I felt. “They chose us.”

Jason let out a short, humorless laugh and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Yeah? That was a mistake.”

My spine snapped straight. “Excuse me?”

He turned to look at me then, eyes cold and clear, and full of all the things I didn’t want to hear. “Come on, beautiful. You hate me. I’m not exactly father material, and you—” His gaze lingered, like he could see the cracks I didn’t want anyone to notice. “You’ve got a life. A career. You’re not ready for this.”

Neither was he. But that didn’t matter.

“They trusted us,” I said sharply. “I don’t care if we hate each other. She’s all that’s left.”

Jason’s jaw clenched, the muscle twitching. He didn’t answer right away, just stood there, staring at the floor like it might give him an escape route.

Then he finally spoke. “I’ll stay,” he muttered. “For now.”

It wasn’t a promise. But right now, it was enough.