Back at Rose's house, a quiet stillness hovered in the air, interrupted only by the sharp chime of the doorbell. Daniel, lounging lazily on the living room couch with his phone in hand, was the closest to the door. With a tired grunt, he pulled himself up and trudged over, unaware of the presence standing on the other side.
The moment the door swung open, Daniel found himself face-to-face with none other than Julian Carter.
A chill seemed to slip into the house with him.
Julian's eyes scanned Daniel from head to toe, not in a casual or curious way, but like he was sizing up a threat — or dismissing one. Daniel felt it immediately: that overpowering aura, cold and commanding, the kind that made the hairs on his neck stand like soldiers on alert.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them stretched too long, too sharp, and too loud. Julian didn't look like a man who enjoyed idle small talk — or tolerated disrespect — and Daniel, already slightly sweating under the weight of the man's gaze, realized he might've already committed a sin by letting him stand at the door for too long.
Daniel swallowed, internally cursing himself.
This isn't even my first time seeing this guy, he reminded himself. Why do I feel like I'm standing trial?
But then again... the last time they spoke, Daniel may or may not have thrown in a passive-aggressive jab. Just a tiny one.
And Julian? He didn't seem like the type to forget anything.
As Daniel's mind scrambled through his mental files trying to remember if he had offended this man beyond repair, Julian finally spoke. His voice was low, smooth, yet laced with barely veiled irritation — the kind of tone that commanded obedience without needing to shout.
"Where is Rose?"
Daniel straightened instinctively, blinking at the abruptness of the question. "She's... inside," he said quickly, almost too quickly.
Silence fell again. The air between them thickened.
Daniel, awkward and unsure, stood frozen by the door like some awkward NPC in a video game. Meanwhile, Julian remained still, his jaw tight, as if fighting off the growing urge to say what he really thought.
Is this boy seriously just going to stand there like a statue?
Julian's patience was wearing thinner by the second. The longer Daniel kept him standing at the threshold, the more Julian's mood soured.
Finally, with practiced calm masking his brewing anger, Julian tilted his head and asked, "May I come in? Or am I not welcome here?"
Daniel's eyes widened. Oh.
He had forgotten to let the man in.
"Sorry, yes — please, come in," he said, stepping back quickly and gesturing clumsily. Good going, Daniel, he scolded himself.
Julian entered the house with the confidence of someone who didn't wait for permission anyway. He moved like a man who was used to owning every room he stepped into. Without waiting to be offered a seat, he sat — legs crossed, back straight, gaze alert. Daniel remained standing awkwardly, arms by his sides, not quite sure what to do with himself.
"I'll get Rose," he said eventually, voice quieter than usual.
But Julian stood again, adjusting the cuff of his dark sleeve. "Where is her room?"
Daniel blinked. "Her... room?"
"Yes. I'd rather speak to her directly."
Daniel hesitated. That was bold. Who just walks into someone's private room like that? It felt wrong — disrespectful even — but the way Julian asked or rather, stated it made it feel like he had no choice. And for a split second, Daniel caught something in the man's eyes — a shadow, a void, something so cold and detached it made Daniel's breath hitch.
He didn't want to know what Julian had seen in his life to have that kind of emptiness inside.
Quietly, Daniel pointed toward the hallway. "That one. Last door on the right."
Without another word, Julian nodded and moved with that same quiet authority. His footsteps were soft, but Daniel still felt them like echoes in his chest.
Julian reached Rose's door and knocked — once, clearly, firmly. Then he waited.
Inside, Rose was crouched beside her bed, hurriedly stuffing clothes into a box. She had been meaning to get it done earlier, but between Stella's surprise arrival and chaty self, she hadn't had a minute of calm. She didn't even look up when she heard the knock. Assuming it was Daniel, she called out distractedly:
"Come in!"
Julian opened the door and stepped in.
Still not turning, Rose said over her shoulder, "Can you grab my phone from the kitchen? It's on the counter. I left it there when Stella and I were talking."
Julian didn't reply. He glanced briefly at her tidy, sunlit room, then turned as if to fulfill the request.
"Where in the kitchen?" he asked.
"On the counter," she answered without missing a beat.
But the voice—
The way he said it—
Her hands froze.
She turned.
And her breath caught.
"Julian!?"
He had just reached for the door handle to go fetch the phone, but stopped, his tall figure outlined by the golden hue of the late sun pouring in through her window.
He turned back to her, his expression impassive.
"Yes?"
Just that one word. Calm. Cool. Like his being there was completely normal.
But Rose's heart thudded hard against her chest.
He was here. In her house. In her room.
And he hadn't told her he was coming.
Something about it — about him — always made her feel like she was being pulled into a current she couldn't fight. Her eyes scanned him quickly — the sharp jawline, the crisp shirt, the perfectly styled hair that somehow always looked effortless. And those eyes. Those deep, unreadable eyes.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, more breath than voice.
Julian's reply came just as calmly.
"I came to see you."
Simple. No embellishments. No apologies for the intrusion. As if that alone should justify everything.
Rose's fingers tightened around the edge of the box. A thousand questions began to rise in her head, but her voice remained silent. For a moment, they just stood there, caught in another of those long, tense silences that Julian was so good at creating.