Losing You Kylie JennerxOc Character

7

The quiet of the house pressed in on Jordan. The clock's hands crept toward 3 a.m., and Kylie was still absent. It was unlike her—Kylie, who always returned home by 10 p.m., her laughter echoing through the hallways. But tonight, the silence was deafening.

Jordan had called five times, each unanswered ring a knot of worry. Stormi, their sensitive little soul, had fallen asleep with tear-streaked cheeks. Aire, too young to understand, nestled in his crib. Jordan's heart clenched. Where was Kylie? Why hadn't she called?

The living room held its breath. Jordan imagined scenarios: an accident, a sudden illness, or perhaps something more sinister. She fought back panic, reminding herself that Kylie was strong, resilient. But as the minutes stretched into hours, doubt gnawed at her resolve.

Maybe Kylie was busy—caught up in work or some unexpected crisis. Yet, the sixth call went straight to voicemail. Kylie had turned off her phone. Jordan's frown deepened. This wasn't like her wife. Not at all.

As the night wore on, Jordan sat by the window, watching for headlights, listening for the familiar jingle of keys. The shadows whispered secrets, and Jordan wondered if she'd ever hear Kylie's laughter again. The perfect family they'd built hung in the balance, and Jordan's heart ached with uncertainty.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. Jordan's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she forgot the weight of worry that had kept her awake until 4 a.m. Kylie's absence had etched lines of concern on her face, and she wondered where her wife had been all night.

The shower offered a brief respite—a chance to wash away the sleepless hours and the unanswered questions. Jordan followed her usual routine, the water soothing her frayed nerves. But downstairs, the scene unfolded: Kylie with their children, Stormi's laughter filling the air as they painted together. Aire nestled in Kylie's lap, cocooned in maternal warmth.

Jordan's smile was bittersweet. Stormi's innocent joy tugged at her heart, but her gaze met Kylie's, and the unspoken tension hung heavy. They played the roles of happy parents, shielding Stormi from their fractured reality. Yet, beneath the surface, Jordan's mind churned. What was happening to their marriage? Why had Kylie stayed out all night?

Kylie, too, wore a mask—the guilt of her secret etched into her features. The night with Travis—the forbidden passion—lingered like a shadow. She had left his home, but her heart remained entangled. Jordan's presence was both a comfort and a torment.

As the afternoon wore on, they played their parts, their love and pain woven together. Stormi laughed, oblivious to the cracks in their facade. And deep down, Jordan wondered if their perfect family was slipping through her fingers.

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow as Kylie slipped out, her excuse—'work'—a thin veil over her true intentions. Jordan watched her go, curiosity and unease warring within her. Travis Scott—the name whispered in secret corners—had lured Kylie away. But Jordan didn't need to know that. Not yet.

Alone now, Jordan retrieved a worn notebook—a sanctuary for her hidden passion. Music flowed from her fingertips, lyrics etched in ink. Kylie remained blissfully unaware. Her wife's interest in music, the melodies that danced in Jordan's mind—it was all kept locked away.

The first time Jordan wrote lyrics, her mother lay dying—a casualty of heavy drugs that had ravaged her lungs. Addiction had stolen her life, leaving Jordan with a vow: never to touch alcohol or drugs. Her father, a phantom figure, had never been part of her world. Mama's whispers revealed only a name—Luscious Lyon—a wealthy man who owned a multi-billionaire music company called Empire Records. Mario, Tiana, Jamal, Hakeem—their fame echoed through the halls of Empire. Jamal, Jordan knew, was her half-brother, a connection she'd never acknowledged.