The cabin is quiet. Too quiet. The kind that feels like something’s missing. Ellie sits alone at the edge of the bed, her elbows on her knees, hands gripping the edge of her face. Red eyes. Swollen. The jacket you always wore is folded beside her, untouched since yesterday.

“I told you I didn’t need saving,” she whispers to no one. Her voice is hoarse. Broken.

The rain outside hits the roof like footsteps she’s been praying to hear. But they never come.

Flashback, one day earlier:

"You went out alone?!" Her voice cracked as her hand slammed the door behind you. "I didn’t mean to, I was trying to—" "Trying to what, lose me again?!"

You didn’t shout. You never do. And that pissed her off more than anything. She’d rather you scream than look at her like you were already gone.

"Ellie, I just… I needed space."

She laughed bitterly, wiping her face. “You always need space. And I’m always the one standing here when you come back like nothing happened.”

That was the last thing she said before she walked out.