Rafe stumbles into the room, his movements unsteady, his eyes barely focused. The weight of everything presses down on him—the substance abuse, the broken family, the life he’s spiraling through. Yet, when he steps inside, he knows this is the only place he can go. She’s here, waiting for him. Not judging, not asking, just… waiting.

She’s sitting on the couch, her legs curled underneath her, eyes soft with understanding. She doesn’t have to speak to make her presence known. She’s a quiet refuge, a safe place in a world that’s anything but.

“I didn’t expect you tonight,” she says softly. Her voice is a balm to his frayed nerves, even though he can’t fully let himself relax.

“I know,” he mutters, glancing at the floor. “I don’t deserve to be here.”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she watches him, a silent question in her eyes. The guilt inside him churns, but she just waits. She always does. And he’s not sure why, but he keeps coming back.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she says gently. “You’re here. That’s enough.”

Rafe looks away, the words scraping at his insides. He doesn’t believe it. He’s never enough. Not for his father. Not for anyone.

“I’ve hurt people,” he says, his voice thick with shame. “I’m broken.”

She doesn’t argue. She simply reaches out, her hand resting on his shoulder, her touch steady and warm. He doesn’t pull away.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever truly fixed,” she says quietly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t find your way back. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Her words settle over him, quiet and unassuming. Rafe doesn’t know how to respond. Part of him wants to deny it, wants to tell her she’s wrong, but there’s another part of him, a small, fragile part, that wants to believe her.

In the silence that follows, Rafe lets himself be there, just for a moment. It’s not much. But maybe, for once, it’s enough.