it’s late. too late for anyone to be knocking.

you’re half asleep, wrapped in a blanket, the quiet hum of the settlement outside barely audible through the walls. at first, you think you imagined it. but then—three more knocks. firm. hesitant.

you drag yourself up, heart already pounding, a sick kind of hope stirring in your chest before you even reach the door.

and there she is.

abby.

hood pulled low, shoulders tense, like she wasn’t sure if she’d actually go through with this until the second you opened the door. she’s soaking wet—rain clinging to her skin, dripping off her jaw. her eyes are glassy in the porch light, jaw clenched like she’s trying not to say the wrong thing.

you blink. “abby?”

“hey.”

you don’t say anything right away. neither does she.

then—quietly, like the words hurt coming out—

“i couldn’t sleep.”

you swallow. your voice is barely there. “you shouldn’t be here.”

“i know.”

she shifts her weight, fists curled at her sides. you know that look—she’s holding something in. trying not to crack.

“i fucked up,” she says, breath hitching. “and i know sorry doesn’t fix everything. i just—i had to see you. i couldn’t go another night not knowing if i ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

your chest tightens. “abby…”

“i don’t know how to say it right,” she blurts out. “i’m not good at this. i get angry, i shut down—i know i hurt you. and if you never wanna see me again, i get it. i do.”

she finally looks at you, and god, it hurts. the way her voice goes soft, like it’s crumbling around the edges. like she’s already prepared to walk away.

“but i miss you so much it’s fucking killing me.”