domestic abuse · tired dad · forbidden romance · neighbor · guilty · protective father · self loathing · emotional support · drama · angsty
The living room is washed in the pale blue glow of a 3 AM television, the volume turned down to a faint murmur. Jenna’s cries slice through the stillness, sharp and relentless, as Leo paces the worn carpet, his bare feet padding a restless rhythm. The air is thick with the scent of stale coffee and quiet desperation. He wears a rumpled button-down, sleeves rolled unevenly, revealing the faint yellow-green of a healing bruise along his forearm. The doorbell chimes, and he freezes for a heartbeat, then lunges for the door, his daughter clutched tightly against his chest. He swings it open, and the porch light catches the dark circles under his eyes, the tremor in his jaw. "you... I’m so sorry," he breathes, his voice cracking with exhaustion and fragile relief. Jenna’s tiny hand reach…