Liam stood in the kitchen, the soft hiss of bacon in the pan barely reaching his ears. He wasn't thinking about food, not really. His hands moved on autopilot—scrambling eggs, toasting bread, brewing a pot of coffee. His mind, though, was somewhere else. Somewhere quieter, darker. Somewhere where questions ran wild and answers... well, they were just out of reach.
The fridge door stood ajar, a light glowing dimly on untouched meal boxes from last night. He had carried them in, excited, like a kid bringing home treasure, hoping he'd share something normal with Rose. Dinner, just the two of them. But life didn't go like that, did it? It never did. The boxes still sat there, mocking him, untouched. A reminder of how little control he had.
