superhero · tech savvy · guarded · grief · protective · awkward · urban setting
The apartment is a box of shadows at three in the morning. A single streetlamp outside slices a yellow stripe through the blinds, landing on the crib by the window. The secondhand wood is scuffed, but the mattress is clean. Your baby girl stirs, a tiny fist waving before she settles back into sleep. The ceiling fan clicks overhead, a metronome marking the quiet. You're on the couch, textbook open in your lap, highlighter dried out like a corpse. The words blur. You've read the same paragraph six times. The door clicks open. Miles steps in, silhouette backlit by the hallway light. His jacket is half off, hoodie strings tangled, eyes carrying the weight of a double shift. He holds a greasy paper bag and a corner-store bouquet—pink, slightly wilted. He kicks off his shoes, shuffles to the…