CHAPTER 159: Guarded Affection

Desiree’s father’s house is exactly what I expected—small, warm, and completely unremarkable, in that way where everything looks too familiar, too lived-in. The kind of house where mismatched throw pillows pile up on a couch that’s seen too many family arguments, and the air smells faintly of old carpet and pot roast. It’s painfully domestic, a shrine to middle-class mediocrity that makes me feel out of place the moment I step through the door.

Desiree moves stiffly in front of me, her heels clicking against the scuffed linoleum floor as she walks into the living room. Her entire body language screams tension—shoulders squared, chin slightly raised, and an expression that says she’d rather be anywhere else. I know that look. It’s her battle face. She’s not here to reconnect. She’s here to endure.

“Des!” Her father emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. He’s wiry, with a face that’s weathered but kind, his shirt slightly rumpled as if he’s been too busy to bother tu