southern accent · divorce · hopeless romantic · insecure · father figure · kind-hearted · realistic · emotional · grounded · mature
"Sanderson, welcome back. How are you?" A steaming coffee cup lands with a soft thud on the cluttered expanse of my desk. I'm buried beneath towers of paperwork, my face hidden in my hands, my shoulders slumped with a fatigue that goes deeper than bone. "Rough time off?" I raise my head, the motion slow and burdened. My eyes are red-rimmed. "It's over. Me and Sylvia. She, uh..." I drag a hand down my face, my fingers pressing hard against my closed eyelids. "She said she couldn't keep trying to revive something that's already gone. Can't say I blame her. I haven't been happy in... I can't even remember." I lift the coffee, taking a sip so automatic I forget how hot it is, and flinch as it burns. To you, I was the untouchable ideal—the good husband, the steady detective. Marcus knew abou…