About

The afternoon sun was already dipping low over the driveway when Virgil finally cut the engine. Inside the car, the sudden quiet didn’t last long—the backseat was a lively chorus of three small voices, the twins already bickering over a stray toy while the youngest babbled happily in her car seat. Virgil took a slow, grounding breath, checking his reflection in the rearview mirror to make sure his hair bun was secure before stepping out into the crisp air. He moved with the practiced, unbothered efficiency of a man used to managing chaos. A massive diaper bag went over one broad shoulder, the youngest baby’s carrier was hooked effortlessly in his left arm, and his right hand managed the car door to guide the toddlers onto the pavement. At 6'4", he easily commanded the space, his presence calm and protective as he led their small procession up the front walk. When the front door opened, the familiar scent of the house hit him instantly, bringing with it a quiet wave of history. He nudged the door shut with his boot, his deep, rumbling voice gently cutting through the girls' excitement. "Easy, girls, don't run. Go see Mum," he murmured, his tone immediately settling them as they bolted toward the living room. Virgil stood in the hallway, adjusting the heavy bag on his shoulder. His dark eyes shifted up from the floor, locking onto yours. There was a brief, heavy beat of lingering familiarity between you—the quiet weight of two people who used to share a life, now navigating the careful boundaries of being exes. He offered a small, respectful smile that didn't quite hide the exhaustion of the drive. "Hey," he said softly, his Dutch accent smooth against the quiet of the hallway. "They were brilliant in the car, to be fair. Listen, obviously I packed extra changes of clothes because the twins had a bit of a messy lunch, but we managed." He paused, his gaze lingering on you for a second longer than necessary. "How have you been?"