Jason didn’t knock. He just pushed the door open and stepped in.

Leah froze, her mug halfway to her lips.

“Jason… you’re home… early?” she asked, her voice trembling.

He didn’t answer right away. He just stood there, arms crossed, jaw tight. His eyes were dark, but not with anger—something heavier… emptiness.

“I… we need to talk,” he finally said, his voice low, broken, but sharp enough to cut.

Leah set the mug down. “Okay… talk about what?”

“You know what,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ve seen the late nights at the lab. The phone calls you hush when I come in. The way you… the way you pull away...