By the time Amara's car pulled into the driveway, the night had fully settled in. The house stood quiet.
Still. Almost too still after the chaos of the day. Julian was already home. He stood just inside the entrance when he heard the car door close, his posture straight but his face carrying the weight of exhaustion. Not just from work. But from everything that had happened.
Everything he had missed. The door opened. And there she was. Tired. Pale. But standing. For a brief moment, he said nothing. No questions. No demands.
Just relief, quiet and controlled. At least she was home. At least she was safe.
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, his hand reaching for hers without hesitation. His grip was firm, grounding, as if reassuring himself she was really there.
"Careful," he murmured softly, guiding her inside. Amara didn't resist. Didn't speak. Because the silence between them wasn't empty.
