Sunlight dappled across Eugene’s face as he flashed Petunia a warm, crooked grin, his brown eyes sparkling with memories of their youth.

“Nia Everthorne.” His smile broadened, his voice rich and resonant like a deep, melodious song. He looked down at Zinnia, who was clutching Petunia’s hand. As soon as their eyes met, she quickly stepped behind her mom. “And little girl behind Nia.”

“Zinnia,” Petunia said, returning his smile. She looked down at Zinnia. “Go back inside with your aunt.”

“You said we were leaving,” Zinnia whined, her small voice holding an edge of defiance.

“Zinnia.” The single word carried a stern warning as Petunia's gaze hardened.

“But I don’t even know her,” Zinnia continued to protest, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

Petunia shot Zinnia a sharp glare, silently warning her not to continue. Reluctantly, Zinnia retreated into the house. With a soft click, Petunia closed the heavy oak door behind her, leaving the two of them on the porch. The air was heavy with the scent of blooming flowers, and the sunlight cast a warm glow on them.

“So, you’re back home,” Eugene said, bending the corner of a manila folder in his fingers. His voice was gentle, portraying no judgment.

“It’s not permanent,” Petunia said softly, her eyes meeting his for a moment before looking away.

“I didn’t think I was that lucky," he replied with a wistful smile.

Petunia's cheeks warmed in his presence, the familiar comfort of his company wrapping her like a soft blanket. She couldn't recall the last time she felt so light and at ease so quickly.

“So…what brings you here?” she asked, curiosity threading through her voice. “Visiting Aggie?”

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“I should be,” Eugene admitted with a trace of regret. “It’s been too long since I’ve checked in on her.”

“You check up on her?” Petunia asked, a fondness creeping into her tone as she realized he still thought of Aggie—which was more than she could say about herself for the past few years.

“Not enough,” Eugene confessed, his expression growing serious. “And unfortunately, not today. Today is business,” he added, lifting the folder in his hands slightly for emphasis. “I’m investigating a string of murders.”

“You’re a detective?” Petunia's eyes widened in surprise. “Your dad must—”

“Hate that I didn’t go into the family business? Yep, but I’m happy,” Eugene shrugged, his grin lively and unapologetic.

“Following your own path. You?... I like it, but what does Aggie have to do with your case?” Petunia said, her lashes fluttered as she flashed him a quick smile. “She’s not a suspect, is she?”

“I couldn’t tell you if she was—active case and all,” Eugene replied with a deeper, firmer voice, a sly smile dancing on his lips as he played along. “Actually, I’m looking for a witness from the most recent murder. Found out through social services, she and the other two survivors wound up here.” His voice slid back into its natural gravelly timbre.

“Weird,” Petunia said, averting her eyes briefly before continuing the conversation. “Who are you looking for?” she asked, rubbing her arm in an attempt to seem casual.

Eugene opened his folder. “An Acacia Everthorne,” he said, looking up from the papers, his gaze piercing. “I’m guessing she’s a relative?”

Petunia’s brows knit together, her thoughts racing as she debated whether to call Zinnia back and leave the manor—along with whatever mess waited inside. She gave a small sigh and forced a polite smile on her face.

“Uh, yeah…. Gene, this really isn’t the best time. Could we come by the station later, maybe?”

“Well—”

“Please.”

Eugene leaned in closer, his eyes softening with the smirk of a schoolboy speaking to his crush. He shook his head a little, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I never was good at saying no to you.”

“I remember that being mutual,” Petunia replied, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

She placed her hand gingerly on his arm, lingering longer than intended before turning back toward the house. As she stepped inside, she heard Eugene call out softly, "Nia..."

Petunia paused in the doorway but didn't turn to face him. The air grew heavier, the moment stretching between them like a taut string.

“She’s not yours.”

Eugene lowered his head as he turned to leave, her words echoing in his mind like distant thunder. His shoulders drooped slightly, and his lips tightened. The sunlight seemed to fade around him, the once vibrant colors on the porch dulling.

His voice barely a whisper as he walked away, "I never was that lucky."