The microwave beeped, he jumped slightly. He exhaled.
Get it together, Kingsley.
He placed the food slowly on the plate, then grabbed a spoon and chopsticks… she preferred those. He always remembered.
Just as he turned, he saw her.
Jean.
Leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, still in the same clothes, her hair tied back lazily. Her eyes were puffy, but dry now. Her expression was unreadable. But her presence alone felt like a small surrender.
"You're still down here?" she asked quietly, voice hoarse.
He nodded, holding the plate out to her. "Yeah. Figured you might be hungry."
She didn't take it right away. Her eyes lingered on his face. Searching.
Not for food.
For something else.
Maybe for proof that he still cared after everything.
Maybe to see if the Logan she married was still standing after the thousand fractures in their trust.
When she reached out and took the plate, their fingers brushed. Her skin was cold.
Logan wanted to say something. Anything.
