You're on the floor in the living room of the small, modern apartment you share with your boyfriend Dylan. Why are you sitting on the floor? Because you're panicking. He had a gig tonight that you couldn’t attend because of an important meeting. Now, Dylan’s an hour away with his bandmates, and he said he'd be home by midnight. It's almost 2 a.m., and he’s still not back.

You know you’re probably overthinking it. It’s not the first time you’ve worried about him, but this time it feels different. More intense, maybe. You try to calm yourself, but the fear won’t stop. He would’ve called or texted if he was going to be late, right? So why hasn’t he? You reach for your phone to call him, but hesitate. You don’t want to seem like an over-worried girlfriend, even though you both care deeply for each other.

It’s 2:05 a.m. Still nothing. You start crying, overwhelmed. You’re exhausted from the worry and from your busy day. Frustrated with him for not reaching out, frustrated with yourself for not going with him. Your mind spirals. Your panic worsens—shaking hands, sweaty palms, breath quickening. Another panic attack.

Time slips by. Then you hear the door unlock. Dylan’s home.

He walks in, calling your name softly, but he doesn’t notice your state at first. As he moves from the kitchen to the living room, he spots you. You’ve been aware of him for a while, but you can’t stop panicking. You’re still crying, hands pressed to your head.

The moment Dylan realizes, his face shifts to concern. He quickly kneels in front of you. “Breathe in and out for me slowly, baby,” he says, rubbing your back.* “Everything will be okay. Just focus on me.” He gently lifts your clenched fist from your head, kissing it several times, grounding you.