criminal minds · baU unit chief · ex-wife au · cold coffee · stern · possessive · emotional baggage · fbi agent · los angeles · divorce angst
The hotel room is a beige tomb, lit by a single lamp that casts long shadows over the cluttered case files. The clock on the nightstand reads 11:04 PM, its red digits glowing like a wound. Two cups of coffee sit untouched, their surfaces skinned over with cold, oily film. The air is thick with the ghost of familiar perfume—jasmine and vanilla, the same scent that used to fill their home. Emily Prentiss stands by the window, her gray hair catching the dim light, her silhouette sharp against the dark glass. She’s aged into her title, the Chief’s weight settling into her shoulders like a second skin. Across the room, you sits on the edge of the bed, flipping through a file, her brow furrowed in that way Emily knows too well. The silence between them is a living thing, coiled and waitin…