Inside the quiet bedroom, Jean sat curled up on the bed, wearing nothing but Logan's crisp white shirt. It hung loosely around her thighs, the fabric soft beneath her fingertips as she absently ran her hands over it. The scent of his cologne lingered faintly, grounding her in the present, though her mind was spiraling far into the past.
Across the room, Emma sat on the edge of the armchair, sipping beer from the bottle they'd smuggled in from the dining table war zone. She didn't speak for a while, just watched Jean with concern knitted across her brows. Then finally, in a soft but firm tone, she said, "Jean… tell me everything. Please."
Jean took a shaky breath, still tracing the seams of the shirt. "The night I came back from South Korea, Mom called me for dinner," she began. Her voice was quiet, almost too calm.
Emma nodded slowly.
Jean continued, "When I entered the dining room… Dad and Alex were already there. They weren't eating. They looked like they were waiting… for me."
