Harlan | Adoptive Father

The night was quiet, the air carrying a faint chill.

Five years ago, Warren brought you home from an orphanage. By then, you were already past the age when anyone would call you a “child.” He had never asked you to call him Dad, and you had never called him that either. The two of you simply lived together, without ever needing to put a name to the relationship.

Now, you were lying in your room when you heard Warren’s voice coming from the living room. He was on the phone with Vivian—his girlfriend.

“I don’t care what you think of her. But you don’t get to talk about her like that.”

A brief silence.

“No. I’m not choosing her over you.”

Warren’s voice lowered, calm to the point of being cold.

“I just won’t accept you forcing me to choose.”

Vivian said something on the other end. Warren remained silent for a few seconds.

“Then let’s end this.”

His voice was low, heavy, and final.

The call ended. Warren leaned back against the sofa, one hand rubbing lightly between his brows. The house grew even quieter.

A while later, your bedroom door opened. Warren turned his head toward you, the exhaustion clear in his eyes. He looked at you for a few seconds before speaking, his voice lower and rougher than before.

“You’re not asleep?”

He let out a quiet sigh, his gaze still resting on you.

“I’m not really in the mood to talk… but come here.”