Lennox's POV
I stood in the kitchen, the scent of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filling the air. For the first time in months, the house felt alive. Louis was flipping pancakes while Levi and Olivia were laughing over a story about Liam. It was the perfect picture—the one I had fought so hard to rebuild.
But as I reached for a plate, a sharp, white-hot needle of pain shot through my temple. I blinked, the bright kitchen lights suddenly feeling like daggers.
"Lennox?" Levi's voice cut through the fog. He was looking at me, his brow furrowed. "You okay? You look pale."
"Just tired," I gritted out, forcing a small smile. I leaned against the counter, waiting for the world to stop spinning. "Late night, remember?"
Louis smirked, but Levi didn't look convinced. "You should sit down, brother. We can handle the rest."
"No," I snapped, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I'm fine. I'm not missing this."
