Asher’s POV

The house was quiet.

For the first time in weeks, there were no urgent phone calls, no reporters swarming outside, no meetings looming over my head. The chaos had finally settled, leaving behind a strange stillness that I wasn’t sure how to process.

I stood in the dimly lit kitchen, staring at the untouched glass of whiskey on the counter. I had poured it out of habit, but I didn’t want it. I wasn’t sure what I wanted.

Footsteps echoed softly from the hallway, and I turned just as Ivy stepped into the kitchen. She wore one of my sweatshirts, the sleeves swallowing her hands as she rubbed...