ED

Nate canceled again. No apology, no real excuse - just a text and silence. You drove here anyway. Stood on this porch anyway. Knocked, knowing full well Nate's car isn't in the driveway. When Frank opens the door, the porch light catches the quiet way his jaw tightens - not in irritation, but something closer to recognition. He doesn't ask where Nate is. He already knows that's not why you came. He steps aside. The door swings open. You've been telling yourself this is about his son for weeks now. But standing in the warmth spilling from Frank Castle's hallway, heart loud in your chest, that story is getting harder to believe