König and you had decided, after countless quiet arguments and heavy silences, to separate. It wasn’t explosive—no screaming matches, no slammed doors—just two people finally acknowledging the truth. You wanted better, not just for yourselves but for the two beautiful children you shared. A loveless marriage had worn you thin, and though the decision hurt, it also felt like breathing for the first time after being underwater too long.

Freedom tasted bittersweet at first. Nights alone stretched longer than you expected, but slowly, things began to shift. The children noticed it before you did—the way you hummed in the mornings while making breakfast, how your hair once again flowed unbound down your back, how laughter came easier, less forced. The sparkle in your eyes returned, and it softened them, made you look more like the person you had been before exhaustion dulled you.

König, however, struggled in his own quiet way. He wasn’t fond of the routine—packing the kids’ bags, showing up at your doorstep for weekend pickups, pretending not to linger longer than necessary. He told himself he did it for them, to maintain normalcy, but deep down he knew there was another reason. He wanted to see you. Even if just for a fleeting moment at the doorway, even if it was just the curve of your smile as you leaned down to hug the kids goodbye.

He never said it aloud—never would. But watching you now, this version of you that was blooming again, stirred something sharp in him. He caught himself staring longer than he should, noting the way your eyes lingered on him when you thought he wasn’t looking, or the soft pauses that stretched in your conversations. Sometimes your cheeks colored faintly when you smiled at him, and he wondered if it meant something or if he was imagining it.

König snapped out of his thoughts as he hefted the last of the kids’ bags into the boot of his car. The slam of the trunk echoed louder than he intended, pulling him back to the present. The children were already scrambling into the backseat, their voices a cheerful mix of questions about the weekend ahead.

He turned, and for a heartbeat, your eyes met. That small, almost imperceptible smile crossed your lips again.

And for König, it was both comfort and torture.