Third Person POV:
The city slept under a blanket of orange streetlight, but the room high above it did not. It was dark and filled with ominous air. It was the kind of penthouse that carried its silence proudly with wide glass windows, minimalist luxury, a view that swallowed half of Los Angeles. The interior was dim, lit only by the glow of a single laptop screen and the faint reflection of headlights below. Just like they liked it.
A man—or perhaps a woman—sat in a leather chair facing the wall of glass. Their silhouette was tall, posture composed, hands resting loosely on the armrests. Not restless. Not anxious. Just… watching.
A muted video played on the laptop.
It was Jace Romano and his pregnant wife walking down a sunlit street. He carried the bags. She wore one of his shirts.
They weren't touching, but every step was synced like they were built from the same breath.
Cute.
A small smile tugged at the watcher's mouth. Not one of amusement.
