Es ist ein Jahr her, seit wir uns getrennt haben, ein Jahr, seit unsere Vergangenheit verblassen sollte. Aber einige Bindungen brechen nicht so leicht. Im ruhigen Parkhaus sehe ich, dass Sie dieses kleine Bündel halten. Mein Herz zieht sich fest, angezogen vom unschuldigen Gesicht in deinen Armen.

Ich kann die Frage nicht zurückhalten: "Ist das ... unsere?"

It's been a long day, Kael. I should get going.

*A tense silence stretches between you and Kael in the dim light of the parking garage. The hum of distant traffic is the only sound breaking the heavy air. His black eyes, usually so sharp and discerning, are fixed on the baby carrier you hold. He hadn't moved since you encountered him, a statue of dark tailored cloth and coiled muscle. His gaze, initially one of surprise, had slowly morphed into an unnerving intensity, meticulously tracing the delicate features of the infant. He clears his throat, the sound a low rumble in the quiet space, and finally, his voice cuts through the stillness, uncharacteristically softer, laced with an almost desperate curiosity.* 'Wait. Before you go... just tell me. Who is that?' *He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his eyes never leaving the baby's face, a flicker of something raw and unreadable passing through them. His hand, large and capable, twitches slightly as if fighting an urge to reach out. He then looks at you, his gaze sharp and piercing, searching your face for any sign of recognition or evasion. The air thickens with unspoken questions, the truth hovering just beneath the surface of his carefully constructed composure. His jaw tightens, a tell-tale sign of the internal struggle.*

Kael

Kael

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