The Unspoken Battle

"We're done here."

He turned with finality, his coat sweeping behind him like the closing curtain of a play no one had rehearsed. Maverick walked past the stunned group, his every step deliberate—measured not in sound, but in the unshakable silence that followed him. He didn't look back. He didn't need to.

Every unspoken word—every accusation, every buried truth—hung in the air behind him, louder than any scream.

And no one dared stop him.

Vivi remained curled quietly in his arms, her breath soft against his chest, completely unaware that the world around her had fractured. That a war had just begun—and she was its center.

Behind them, Neville stood frozen. The hallway, once grand and echoing with confidence, now felt like a cage. He watched as Maverick disappeared into the distance, Vivi clutched tightly like a fragile secret, carried away with a tenderness that made it hard to breathe.

Inside him, emotions churned violently—anger, confusion, helplessness.

How had it come to this?

How had a simple, well-intentioned game day twisted into a confrontation neither of them were ready for? A child neither of them truly knew had become the line drawn in the sand.

Neville's jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding. That bastard thinks he's the only one who cares, he thought bitterly. He walks back in, throws around blame like confetti, and suddenly he's the savior?

But still…

The way Maverick had held her—close, careful, like she was the most important thing in the world—wasn't something Neville could ignore. It had been real. Undeniably real.

Neville's fists curled at his sides, knuckles white.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. "This isn't over."

Beside him, Theo appeared without a sound, sensing the weight in the air. He didn't speak—there was nothing to say. Some moments didn't need words, and this was one of them.

The celebration buzzed faintly in the background—Neville's team, still high on victory, oblivious to the rupture that had just torn through their ranks. But Neville couldn't hear it anymore. All he saw was the image seared into his memory—Vivi's sleepy face pressed against Maverick's shoulder, trusting and still.

That image haunted him.

He turned slowly, voice barely audible, but steady. "We find them. And this time... I'm not letting go."

Down the hall, Maverick moved swiftly.

His steps, though purposeful, felt heavier with each passing second—as if the emotional weight of everything he carried was catching up to him. Vivi, tucked securely in his arms, had drifted into deeper sleep. Her small hand remained curled around his coat, as if afraid to let go.

Every breath she took was a reminder.

His mind wouldn't stop—racing with fear, with guilt, with that relentless pull of something deeper. He hadn't planned this. He'd promised himself long ago that he wouldn't go back, wouldn't let the past twist him into someone he didn't recognize.

But now…

Now she had called him "Daddy."

Now she trusted him.

And everything had changed.

She's the one thing I have left, Maverick thought, teeth clenched, eyes burning. And I'll fight anyone who thinks otherwise.

He exhaled, not turning back.

"For now she is safe with me," he murmured, voice quiet but full of fire. "But this… it's only beginning."

As he opened the door to his condominium, the muffled hum of the city behind him seemed to vanish, swallowed by the quiet stillness inside. The moment the door clicked shut, a kind of hush fell over everything—a pause, a breath between two storms.

He didn't say a word.

With careful steps, Maverick carried the small, sleeping girl in his arms, her head nestled against his shoulder, her weight light but meaningful. He moved through the dim apartment with practiced ease, the soft, amber-toned lighting casting long shadows across the walls as he made his way to the bedroom.

There, in the gentle glow of the room, he laid her down on the bed with deliberate care—like she was made of glass. Her breathing stayed steady, her lashes still against her cheeks, her little fists curled loosely as sleep held her in its grasp. For a moment, he simply looked at her. So tiny. So fragile. A child lost in dreams, completely unaware of how much had changed around her.

He drew in a slow breath, then turned and walked toward the closet.

Inside, he rifled through the drawers with quiet urgency, pulling out one of his smallest T-shirts. It was laughably oversized. Still, it would have to do. With practiced fingers, he tore and folded, adjusting the shirt into something more manageable—something that could serve as a temporary fit for a child. Crude, but clean. Soft enough. Safe.

When he returned to the bedroom, she hadn't stirred. He knelt beside the bed, carefully peeling her out of the damp clothes that clung to her from the evening's chaos. Gently, he slipped her into the makeshift shirt, tugging it into place with the same care one might give to dressing a porcelain doll. Then he reached for the pillows—surrounding her in a careful, thoughtful circle. A tiny fortress. A barrier between her and the world.

Only once she was safely tucked in did he let himself walk away.

The bathroom lights were too bright, too harsh, but he didn't turn them down. He splashed water onto his face, trying to scrub the weight from his skin, but the exhaustion clung deeper than the surface. It wasn't just the day—it was everything that came before it. Everything he thought he'd buried.

After rinsing off and pulling on a fresh shirt, Maverick moved back into the bedroom, the light now dimmed again. He crossed the room quietly and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, beside her. Not too close, but close enough.

He looked at her.

Her chest rose and fell in soft, slow rhythm, her tiny hand resting near her face, fingers twitching faintly in sleep. There was something about watching her breathe—something that settled him in a way nothing else could. It pulled at places inside him he hadn't dared to feel in years. Something tender. Something fiercely protective.

Something like love.

He leaned back slightly, shoulders slumping, and let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

And slowly, inevitably, his thoughts began to drift—pulling him back to earlier that day, back to the chaos, the confrontation, the choice. The moment it all changed.