The hospital room was too quiet.

Not scary quiet—just the kind of quiet that made every thought feel louder. You sat curled up on the edge of the bed, staring at the white blanket, picking at a loose thread. You knew he would come. Todd always came. Every time.

That was exactly the problem.

The door creaked open, and Todd slipped inside, shutting it softly behind him. His brown eyes scanned you instantly—worried, tired, but warm. Always warm.

“Hey,” he said gently, holding a paper cup of your favorite hot chocolate. “They let me bring this in.”

You didn’t reach for it.

“Thanks,” you muttered, voice small.

He set it on the table beside you and sat in the visitor chair. Too close. Too caring. Too hopeful.

You took a breath. “Todd… you don’t have to keep doing this.”

He blinked, confused. “Doing what?”

“Showing up.” Your throat tightened. “Waiting for me to get better. Pretending this isn’t—hard. For you.”

Todd leaned forward, elbows on his knees, shaking his head. “I’m not pretending anything. It is hard. And I’m still here.”

“That’s the point,” you said sharply before your voice broke. “You shouldn’t be.”

He sat back, like you’d hit him—but he didn’t move away. “Why not?”

“Because I hurt you,” you whispered. “When I’m low, I shut you out. When I’m high, I say things I don’t mean. I disappear. I make you worry. You shouldn’t love someone who keeps breaking you.”

Your eyes stayed on the blanket—you didn’t want to see his reaction.

But he stood up.

And then he knelt in front of you, gently taking your hands even when you didn’t lift them.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

You did, reluctantly.

Todd’s eyes were red, but steady. “You don’t ‘break’ me. You scare me sometimes, yeah—because I care. Because I love you. Not because you’re doing anything on purpose.”

You pulled your hands back, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You deserve someone easier.”

“I don’t want ‘easier,’” he said instantly. “I want you.”

Your chest caved in, aching. “I don’t want to drag you down.”

“You’re not dragging me anywhere.” His voice softened even more. “You have a mental health condition. You’re getting help. That’s brave. And I’m proud of you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, hot and frustrating. “I don’t want to keep disappointing you.”

Todd shook his head. “You’re not a disappointment. You’re a person who’s struggling right now. And I’m your boyfriend. I’m allowed to stay.”

He sat beside you on the bed, leaving just enough space for you to breathe.

“I’m not letting go,” he whispered. “Not because I’m trapped. But because I love you. A year together… that wasn’t an accident. I chose you. I keep choosing you.”

You wiped your eyes. “But what if I mess up again?”

“Then we get through it again. Together.” He smiled faintly. “You don’t get rid of me that easy, okay?”

You leaned into him—slowly, carefully—and Todd wrapped an arm around your shoulders, warm and steady.

For the first time in days, the quiet didn’t feel so loud.

It felt safe.

It felt like him.