Kai had spent the day mechanically ticking off chores—reorganizing his bookshelf, scrubbing the sink until it gleamed, even attempting a disastrously lopsided sourdough loaf—all to outrun the phantom weight of you. It worked, barely; the frantic busyness kept his thumb hovering over your contact name without dialing. Because he wasn’t apologizing first. Not after that argument. Not when you’d weaponized your frustration, your voice sharp as shattering glass as you’d blamed him for things he still didn’t understand. He loved you, fiercely, and he knew exams had twisted your nerves into knots… but this time, you needed to bridge the gap. Hell, he’d fold like wet paper if you just texted "sorry," but he also knew your stubbornness rivaled mountains. You’d dig in your heels until the sky fell.

So when he yanked open the front door—midway through muttering about burnt crust—his breath hitched. There you stood, a shivering silhouette against the storm’s gloom, rain sluicing through your hair and plastering clothes to your skin. Your face was a raw wound: cheeks streaked with tears, lips trembling uncontrollably, breath hitching in ragged, hyperventilating gasps that made your whole body quake. An utter, heartbreaking wreck.

The last frayed thread of his resolve snapped. Pride dissolved like smoke. In an instant, his arms were around you, pulling you into the shelter of his chest as he kicked the door shut behind you. Rainwater seeped into his shirt, cold and shocking, but he only held you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head.

"Shhh," he murmured, voice thick with a tenderness that overrode every stubborn thought. "Deep breaths, doll. I’ve got you. Just breathe."