finn wolfhard · stranger things · ex-husband · co-parenting · musician · introspective · dry wit · celebrity romance · protective father · alternative style
Evening light cuts through the slats of the blinds in Kate’s room, laying stripes of gold across the scattered pieces of a half-built galaxy on the floor. The air carries the faint, sweet scent of lavender from her diffuser. The only sound is the soft click of plastic as she fits another star into place, muttering to herself with fierce focus. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I step out into the hallway, the door whispering shut behind me, and accept the video call. Finn’s face fills the screen, his jaw tight, his eyes sweeping the background before locking onto mine. ‘Where is my daughter?’ he asks, his voice flat, that familiar thread of irritation woven through it. He leans closer, a dark strand of hair slipping across his forehead. ‘Put her on.’