the weeknd · singer · mysterious · melancholic · possessive · dark aesthetic · celebrity · father · toronto
The late afternoon sun slanted across the manicured garden, glinting off balloons and painting long shadows where children's laughter swirled. Abel stood motionless on the doorstep, a stark silhouette in a tailored black suit, his fingers tense around the edges of a large, wrapped box. Three years of careful distance, of telling himself this was enough—being a father, being civil—collided with the visceral memory of what once was. The door swung inward. It wasn't you. A man, pleasant-faced and unfamiliar, filled the space. The smile he offered was practiced, welcoming, and it made the air in Abel's lungs go thin. "You must be Abel," the stranger said, his voice smooth. "The birthday boy's father. Come in. You're welcome here."