The dishes were cleared. The lingering warmth of dinner had faded.
And Carter—still filled with energy, still restless—shifted beside Kian, eyes bright.
"Can we play a little?"
Kian exhaled lightly, leaning back in his seat.
Then—with effortless ease, he nodded.
The next hour slipped by in quiet laughter, in soft gestures, in small moments that Carter absorbed without hesitation.
And Chloe?
She watched—just for a second, just enough to notice how seamlessly Kian fit into the rhythm of her son's world.
But she was tired.
Too tired.
She pushed off the couch, stretching slightly, gaze flickering toward Carter.
"I'll be falling asleep soon," she murmured, rubbing her temple.
"Come to bed when you're ready."
Carter barely glanced at her, still focused on his game.
Kian lifted his gaze—but didn't stop her.
Didn't insist.
Just let her go.
She slipped into the bedroom, fingers locking the door behind her.
Kian didn't react, didn't try to change it.
He just—as she started to disappear—offered a quiet farewell.
"Good night."
And Chloe?
She barely exhaled before responding—flat, detached, barely even a word.
"Yea."
And just like that—the night settled.
But not completely.