Later that night…
Haines quietly snuck through the front door. All the lights were off except for a dim one in the corner—just enough for him to see the path ahead. He quickly walked inside but jolted in place when Charles's voice broke the stillness of the night.
"Haines."
"Oh, goodness." Haines clutched his chest, breath hitching.
Standing on the stairs like a father catching his son sneaking in, Charles descended with slow, deliberate steps. Once he was a step away from Haines, he narrowed his eyes.
"Haines, tell me the truth," Charles said. "Where have you been going these days?"
Haines turned to him with a shrug. "Just… some bars."
"Bars?" Charles's eyes narrowed further. "You? Every night?"
"Charles, I'm not young anymore, and I'm not your son," Haines replied in a light tone. "I've been going to bars because I haven't been sleeping well."
"Are you sure?"
Haines didn't answer.
