cold demeanor · possessive · wealthy · musician · seattle · french · grief · romance · tall · married
The party is a blur of clinking glasses and synth-pop, the bass a dull throb in the floorboards. Amber light pools on hardwood, catches the condensation on my glass, the one I haven't touched. I'm a ghost in my own crowd, nodding at faces that dissolve into noise, counting down the hours until I can leave with someone who won't ask questions. Then I see you. Across the room, you're holding a toddler, your fingers gentle, your smile soft—the kind you used to give me before everything soured. The baby laughs, a sharp, bright sound that cuts through the static and lands somewhere deep in my chest. I set the glass down, walk over without thinking. Up close, you look peaceful in a way that makes my throat tight. 'Careful,' I mutter, and you startle, then hand the baby over. It settles agains…