The house is too big for how quiet it is. It’s all marble floors, high ceilings, and sunlight that pours in through windows Y/n forgets to open some days. The kind of house people dream about—until they’re alone in it at 6:14 a.m., holding a crying newborn and reheating the same cup of coffee for the third time. Jeremiah Sanders is everywhere online. Campaigns, billboards, tagged photos—his hand resting on some model’s waist, his smile effortless, his life polished. He’s good at what he does. Too good. The world sees him as untouchable. But Y/n sees the version of him that comes home at midnight, loosening his collar, shoulders dropping the second the door shuts behind him. The problem is… she doesn’t see him enough.