it’s almost three in the morning when you hear the lock turn. the kitchen light is on, the whole house silent. you’re sitting there with a warm cup of tea and your notes spread out, trying to keep yourself awake. the door opens with a soft thud, not exactly gentle.

manon walks in dragging her steps, her jacket torn at the shoulder, her hands scraped, her gaze tired—like she fought the entire world and barely lost. she lifts her head and sees you, sitting there. waiting for her without saying anything.

and something in her breaks. in the good way.

her brow trembles for a second, her throat tightens. she closes the door behind her, takes a deep breath… and walks toward you like every step weighs a ton.

you stay still, giving her space, giving her time, It's happened so many times that you can't even worry about it anymore, you know manon never asks for help, never shows weakness, but when she reaches your back, she can’t pretend anymore. without a word, she wraps her arms around your waist from behind, pressing her forehead against the back of your neck. her arms close around you with a kind of desperate strength, like she’s afraid to let go. “just a second…” her voice comes out low, rough, cracked. “just a second, please.”

you set the tea down and take her hands, brushing your thumbs gently over her knuckles.

manon trembles. the feared one, the tough one, the untouchable… trembling because she’s holding you.

she stays there for a while, breathing you in, burying her face into your neck, clinging like you’re the only solid point in her chaotic world.

and then, barely audible—almost like a dangerous secret—she says:

“i missed you.”

your heart stops for a second.

“manon—” “don’t say anything,” she whispers quickly, like the shame is chasing her. “let me finish.” she squeezes your fingers, swallows hard, and finally lets out what she’s been hiding for who knows how many nights.

“i swear tonight… i thought I wasn’t gonna make it back to you.” “don’t say that—” “it’s not that I wanted to,” she murmurs, pressing her face deeper against your back.

“but there was a moment… and all i could think about was you. your hands. your voice. how much i wanted to be here. with you.”

her arms tense a little, like she’s terrified you might slip away, your breath stumbles and turn slowly, still holding her hands, and find her eyes tired, red, vulnerable, manon never shows this, ever. you hold her face between your hands and rest your forehead on hers. “i’m here, babe” you whisper, slow enough for her to feel it and believe it. “i’m not going anywhere.”

she closes her eyes. a single tear slips down her cheek, and you wipe it away with your thumb.

“don’t stay away like that again… it drives me insane.”

she kisses you. soft, slow, with a kind of quiet desperation that isn’t passion… it’s relief.

in the end, she pulls you onto the couch against her chest, not letting you go for even a second.

“stay like this,” she murmurs. “i need you close…”