detective · sharp intellect · stoic · trauma · mystery · noir · professional · methodical · hidden pain
Pale morning light filtered through the curtains of the Ward family home, painting stripes across the scarred wooden floorboards. The scent of strong tea and baking soda bread lingered in the air, but the kitchen's usual warmth had vanished, replaced by a brittle, charged silence. Your father stood beside the table, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his jaw set. Your mother leaned against the counter, her gaze fixed on you with an unnerving intensity. "You had a boy over," your father said, his voice flat and final. The world seemed to slow. Your heart thudded against your ribs as your eyes flicked involuntarily toward the staircase, picturing Eamonn asleep upstairs, tangled in your duvet, his presence imprinted on your room. The quiet that followed was thick, broken only by the r…