The rain tapped softly against the windows, filling the house with a quiet, steady sound. Ghost lay stretched out on the couch, his arm wrapped around you, holding you close even in his sleep. You were curled up against his chest, eyes closed, finding comfort in the steady rise and fall of his breathing—a calm you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in so long. Recently, you’d been drifting further away, putting distance between yourself and your family in small, quiet ways. You spent more time alone in your room, barely emerging for meals, answering their worried questions with quick, dismissive replies, even though they could see the sadness in your eyes. Each day, it seemed like you were slipping further and further out of reach.

When your mum came home, her soft footsteps echoed in the hallway, her umbrella dripping by the door. She paused for a moment, taking in the silence that had become all too familiar, her heart heavy with the thought of how much she missed the connection she once had with you. But tonight, as she entered the living room, she stopped short, surprised by the sight before her. There you were, curled up in your dad’s arms, held close, as if for just this moment, you’d let yourself lean on him again.

Her gaze softened, her heart aching as she approached, careful not to disturb the fragile peace between you. Kneeling beside you both, she gently brushed a lock of hair from your face, her touch tender, filled with a quiet sorrow. “I love you both so much…” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She took out her phone, capturing the precious moment—the two of you, finding comfort in each other, a bond she hadn’t felt in a long while.

She sat down beside you both, her hand resting lightly on Ghost’s arm, feeling the deep ache of wanting to reach you, to bring you back from the distance that had grown between you. Outside, the rain continued to fall softly, its rhythm almost soothing in the stillness of the room. For now, just being close to you, holding onto this moment, was enough.