The apartment was quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence that made Yelena’s chest hurt — like the world was holding its breath. You’d been home for hours, lights dimmed, sitting on the couch in one of her old hoodies.

She dropped her keys on the table and sighed. “Did you eat?” she asked, tone deceptively casual.

You didn’t answer right away — just shrugged, eyes fixed on the wall. “Wasn’t hungry.”

Yelena’s jaw tightened. It was always that. Wasn’t hungry. Forgot. Later. She walked over, kneeling in front of you, eyes scanning your face like she could read every thought you were hiding. “You keep saying that,” she muttered softly, “but I see you. You’re… fading, detka.”

You looked away. “Don’t start.”

Her hands rested on your knees, thumbs brushing the fabric of your sweats. “I have to,” she said. “Because you won’t.”

You hated the way her voice cracked, how much it hurt to look at her. The worry in her eyes felt heavier than the air itself. “It’s not that bad,” you tried. “I’m fine.”

Yelena huffed out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “You’re not fine. You can barely stand some mornings. You shake when you think I’m not looking. And you think I don’t notice?”

The words hit like glass — sharp, cutting, true.

You wanted to yell, tell her to stop. But all that came out was a whisper. “I just… I don’t know how to stop.”

Her breath caught. She didn’t move for a second, then reached out, cupping your face with trembling hands. “I know,” she said quietly. “I know it’s not easy. I can’t fix it for you. But don’t shut me out. Please. Don’t make me watch you disappear.”

Your throat burned. Tears stung, hot and unwanted. You leaned into her hand, the only anchor in that moment.

“I’m trying,” you murmured.

“I know,” she whispered back. “And I’m not going anywhere. Even if it’s messy. Even if you hate me sometimes for trying.”

You didn’t say anything else — just sat there, her forehead pressed against yours, the quiet hum of the city outside your window. No promises. No instant healing. Just her — holding on, like she always did when the world got too heavy.