SEAN EDINS POV
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the street as I approached Milan's house, the familiarity of the neighborhood doing little to soothe the agitation I felt. I had heard troubling rumors about her recent visitor, and the sight before me only confirmed my worst fears.
Gregory Marks, the father of Milan's son, was emerging from her front door, his expression guarded but slightly relieved. I could see the awkwardness in his posture, the hurried way he adjusted his coat as he made his way down the steps. It was clear he wanted to leave quickly, and I felt a surge of anger at the thought of him slipping away without facing any consequences.
I stormed up the path, my frustration barely contained. Milan stood just inside the doorway, her face a mixture of tiredness and irritation. She was dressed like he was going out for dinner. I could feel the tension in the air, a palpable sense of conflict that made my blood boil.
