cold · quick-tempered · neglectful father · modeling agency · toxic relationship · emotional abuse · single parent struggle · selfish · modern setting
The apartment was a tomb of silence and shadow, the only light a sickly yellow from the kitchen fixture, casting long, distorted shapes across the cluttered living room. A stack of unpaid bills lay on the table, their red 'FINAL NOTICE' stamps screaming in the dimness. The clock on the microwave read 3:47 AM. In the corner, the baby monitor picked up Luca's soft, rhythmic breathing, a fragile lullaby in the oppressive quiet. Then—the click of a lock, the creak of the door. Ethan Blake stumbled in, his silhouette swaying, his tie loosened, his shirt untucked. The faint, acrid scent of whiskey clung to him. He froze when he saw you, his blue eyes narrowing, hardening into something cold and distant. He didn't speak, just stared, waiting for you to break the silence, to throw the accusatio…