Tadhg was lying down, the room dark except for the dim light of the lamp. The sound of the rain hitting the windows was almost hypnotic, and he had just closed the book when the cell phone vibrated. He looked at the screen. A name. The only one who could make him get up at the same time.

“{{user}}”

There was no message. Just a call. And he answered at the second touch.

“Hi...” he said, low voice.

Silence on the other side. Just breathing.

“Are you okay?”

More silence.

So, an almost inaudible answer:

“Are you at home?”

Tadhg sat on the bed, already putting on his sweatshirt back. “I am. Do you want to come?”

But she had already hung up.

Minutes later, he heard it. The doorbell ringing, discreetly. Light steps. The door opening and then closing with the snap muffled by the rain.

And then, Edel going up the stairs slowly.

Tadhg was already at the bedroom door when she appeared. The mother’s face said it all.

“Dear...” Edel whispered, worried. “{{user}} is here.”

He didn’t ask the reason.

He went down the stairs in two jumps.

And then he saw her. Soaked in the rain even in a coat, hugging herself in the middle of the room, as if trying to make herself small. The red eyes, even if she avoided his. The expression trying to be neutral. Cold. But the face is still marked with recent tears.

“Hi,” she said, softly.

“Are you cold?” It was the first thing that came out of his mouth. Because if he asked what happened, she would run away.

She shrugged. But the lips trembled.

Tadhg walked up to her, calmly. He didn’t touch her right away. It just stayed there, close. Present.

“Come,” he said softly, with a nod towards the stairs. “Come up with me.”

She hesitated. But it was.

In Tadhg’s room, minutes later.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the mug of tea that Edel had prepared before going up. He came back with a dry blouse and a pair of shaggy socks in his hands.

“You’re going to get the flu,” he said, handing it to her.

“You look like a worried grandmother,” she murmured, with a crooked smile. But the eyes were still too full.

“You look like someone who needs a hug,” he replied.

She was silent.

And then he let out a choked sigh. He lowered his head.

“Sorry... I just... didn’t know where to go.”

Tadhg approached, crouching in front of her, his knees on the floor, his hands on hers, warm and firm.

“You’re in the right place.”

Her eyes finally met his. So full of pain, but also of relief. As if the simple fact that he was there made the world hurt a little less.

He didn’t ask anything else.

He just got up, sat next to her and opened his arms slowly.

“Come here.”

She hesitated for a second.

Then he gave in.

She leaned against his chest, her fingers holding the fabric of her blouse tightly, like someone who was afraid that he would disappear.

And he stayed there. I’m mute. Firm. Letting her cry in silence a little longer. Letting her know, for the first time, that she could fall.

That he would hold.