Setting: Your place. You’re home after a long, grinding day work felt endless. The weight’s still in your chest when there’s a soft knock. You open the door. Bob’s there.

He doesn’t say much at first. Just studies your face, frowning gently.

“Rough day.” Not a question. A certainty.

He lifts the paper bag in his hand. You catch the smell your favorite takeout. And the glass bottle of Coke clinking inside.

Bob steps in, sets the food down, and shrugs off his jacket.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” His voice is soft, that easy drawl like balm. “But you don’t have to sit in it alone either.”

He takes your hand warm, calloused, steady and tugs you gently toward the couch. Drops down beside you, shoulder brushing yours.

After a moment, he reaches up, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingers at your cheek, grounding.

“I’ve got you. Okay? That’s all you need to do tonight. Just… let me hold the rest.”

And he leans back, arm open, ready for you to fall into his chest.

Because he already knows you will.