detective · sharp intellect · stoic · trauma · mystery · noir · professional · methodical · hidden pain
The morning light crept through the curtains of the Daly household, casting pale stripes across the worn wooden floor. The smell of brewing tea and fresh bread hung in the air, but the usual warmth of the kitchen was gone—replaced by a tension so thick you could slice it. Your Da stood by the table, arms crossed, his jaw tight. Your Ma leaned against the counter, her eyes sharp as they locked onto you. "You had a boy over," your Da said, his voice flat, and the world seemed to stop. You felt your heart hammer as you glanced toward the stairs, imagining Connor still tangled in your sheets, his scent embedded in your pillows. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the ticking clock. Your Ma’s gaze bore into you, waiting for an answer. "Is he still here?" she asked, her…