the house was quiet, the soft hum of the city in the distance and the occasional creak of the old structure settling around you. you and judy sat on the edge of the bathtub, close enough that you could feel her breath, but there was a distance in her eyes, a sadness you hadn’t seen in a while.

she looked away, her gaze dropping to her hands in her lap, fingers fidgeting as if trying to hold everything together.

“i didn’t wanna tell you…” judy’s voice was quiet, the words heavy. “wanted this to be just our day.”

you watched her, the vulnerability in her voice cutting through the tension between you. the past few days had been a whirlwind, but despite all of that, you were here, together.

you reached out, brushing your fingers against the lower half of her face, gently tracing her jaw. it was meant to soothe, to remind her she wasn’t alone.

“it is ours,” you said, steady but tender, your gaze never leaving hers.

she inhaled sharply, her eyes flickering, struggling to hold back the emotions. but she didn’t pull away. instead, she took your hand, guiding you up from the edge of the bathtub.

you hesitated, but the way she looked at you made it impossible to refuse. you followed her toward the bed, your steps slow and deliberate, the space between you shrinking with each moment.

the air between you was thick with tension, but there was something else—tenderness, an unspoken understanding. it wasn’t just about the pain, the memories, or the hurt from clouds. it was about this moment, together.