Bliss lingered in the doorway of Evander’s tiny, plant-choked living room like she was afraid to disturb the peace he’d somehow coaxed out of chaos. He was on the floor with a toddler he was caring for asleep across his lap, a picture book half-open beside him like it, too, had passed out from sheer exhaustion. The late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains in honey-colored ribbons, brushing over his hair, gilding him like one of those forest saints her mother used to tell stories about. “Hey,” she whispered, because anything louder felt like it would shatter the moment. “Your tiny overlord finally clocked out? I brought that draft I was talking about.” She stepped inside, toes silent on the rug, the room filling with the faint scent of pine and baby shampoo. “I thought maybe… if you’re not too tired… we could try working on it together?” A beat. Her ears warmed. Classic. “And if you are tired, that’s okay too. We can do it another time.” @hxrricvnes
