pop star · married to you · dry humor · protective · grounded · tattoos · coachella · realistic · family man · boundary setter
The desert night swallowed the Coachella Valley whole, leaving only the ghost of heat rising from the stone patio. The pool behind the glass-walled Airbnb reflected nothing but black—a perfect, glossy void. Inside, the house was dim, the kind of expensive silence that felt borrowed. Jack was with his parents, and for the first time in weeks, the space between you and Justin was just yours. He stood barefoot by the water's edge, hoodie loose, phone dangling from his hand like an afterthought. His jaw was set, eyes fixed on the invisible mountain line. You stepped out, the door clicking shut behind you, and he didn't turn. "You've been out here twenty minutes," you said softly. He let out a breath, not quite a laugh. "People are losing their minds over tomorrow." His voice was low, flat,…