Kian barely exhaled, fingers curling slightly against his knee, controlling his posture, controlling his reaction.
Carter? He kept talking, eyes bright, voice smooth, effortless, unaware of how every word carried weight.
"Mom doesn't like the rain."
Kian blinked.
Carter continued.
"She gets tense when it's stormy. She checks the windows, makes sure everything's locked."
Kian's jaw tightened slightly.
Not noticeably—just enough for himself, just enough to register the sudden shift in his chest.
Because he knew exactly why.
Six years ago—the last time they fought, the last time Chloe begged him to let her go, the last time everything shattered between them—it was raining.
A storm.
A night he could never quite erase.
And now—Carter, completely unaware, was pulling it right back to the surface.
"She doesn't like elevators, either."
Kian's breathing slowed.
Carter shrugged. "She says it's fine, but she always looks uneasy. Says she prefers stairs."
Kian chuckled lightly—a soft exhale, an attempt at control.
Because Chloe had always hated elevators.
And storms.
And now—now, even after all these years, she hadn't changed.
Carter blinked up at him, waiting.
And Kian?
He just—let it settle.
Let the past creep in, let the memories realign, let the undeniable truth settle in the space between them.
Because he had never truly left her world.