𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧' 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 ─────⋆⋅★𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘺

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐏𝐭. 𝟏

The house in North Carolina stood like a secret nestled in the hills, its sprawling grounds quiet and unassuming. The driveway was long and winding, lined with towering trees that cast dappled shadows in the late afternoon sun. The world outside felt impossibly far away, reduced to a faint hum drowned out by the laughter and cries of two little girls who had become the center of Suki Monroe's universe. Here, the chaos of fame and the scrutiny of cameras couldn't touch them.

Suki sat on the back porch, her hair tied loosely in a braid that fell over her shoulder. Jonie, her two-year-old, lay cradled in her lap, her tiny fingers tracing aimless patterns on Suki's arm. The little girl's weight was warm and comforting, grounding her in a way she hadn't known she needed. Gracelyn, just a year old, toddled around the yard with determination far beyond her small frame, clutching a stuffed bunny that had long since lost its ears and much of its fur. Her unsteady legs wobbled as she moved, but the fierce grin on her face said she wouldn't be deterred, even when she stumbled.

The faint sound of Drew's voice floated from the kitchen. He was humming, his low, soothing tone carrying through the open window. She could hear the clatter of pans and the hiss of something sizzling on the stove. Drew was a natural in the kitchen, a skill he'd insisted on honing after Jonie was born. He always said it was his way of keeping their lives steady, grounded. From the cadence of his humming, Suki knew he had one eye on the stove and the other on the yard, watching their girls even when he wasn't outside with them. It was his way, always present, always tuned to the pulse of their family.

This was her life now: a quiet rhythm that had once felt impossible to dream of, let alone achieve. After the Oscars, after everything, Suki had made the choice to step away. She hadn't announced it, hadn't staged some dramatic farewell—she simply disappeared. Her retreat had been quiet, deliberate. The cameras that had once shadowed her every move now felt like a hazy memory, blurred by time and distance.

The public had caught glimpses, of course—a candid photo of her at the farmer's market, another of her and Drew walking hand in hand near the house—but those moments only added to the mystique of her disappearance. Rumors swirled endlessly: Was she still making music? Would she ever return to acting? Few knew the truth. No one knew about Jonie or Gracelyn, about her marriage to Drew, about the life they'd built in this tucked-away corner of the world. That was by design. For the first time, her life felt like it was truly hers.

The wooden boards of the porch creaked, drawing Suki's attention upward. Drew stepped outside, a dish towel slung casually over his shoulder. He wore a soft grin that made her heart do the same little flip it always had, even after all this time.

His gaze softened at the sight of her, legs curled beneath her, Jonie nestled against her chest. "Dinner's almost ready," he said, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. His lips lingered just a second longer than necessary, a habit he hadn't shaken.

"You need a break?" he asked, his voice low and warm, his hand brushing against her knee.

Suki smiled up at him. "I'm good," she replied softly, tilting her head toward the yard. "Gracelyn's trying to eat a rock, though."

Drew followed her gaze and laughed, stepping off the porch with an ease that belied his size. He crouched and gently scooped Gracelyn up before she could complete her mission. The little girl squealed in delight, her giggle bubbling out like pure joy, and Drew held her up, inspecting her face with exaggerated seriousness.

"Miss Gracelyn," he said, his tone mock-stern. "We've talked about this. Rocks are not snacks."

Gracelyn giggled harder, her small hands patting his face as though in protest. Suki watched the exchange, her chest tightening in that soft ache that came with loving someone so deeply, so entirely. Drew had always been good with the girls, but seeing him like this—in the quiet moments, in their home, just being their dad—was something she hadn't known how much she'd cherish.