Simon checked his watch, waiting outside the small cafe he’d picked out for the night. He had been looking forward to this for days, planning something simple but special—a quiet dinner to help lift your spirits, get you away from everything. You’d been struggling lately, the weight of home bearing down, and he could see it more every time he saw you.

Just as he adjusted his jacket and looked around, his phone buzzed. He unlocked it, finding a text from you:

“Hey, I’m so sorry. Can’t leave. My mom’s in one of her moods again.”

He frowned, concern flooding his system. You’d mentioned your mom’s volatile nature before, the way her mood swings held you back, kept you trapped in that house when you just needed a break. It wasn’t fair. And now, once again, it was stealing a chance for you to get a breath of fresh air.

Simon quickly typed a response:

“Wait there. I’ll come to you.”

There was a pause before your reply came through.

“You don’t have to, Simon. She’s just being difficult.”

Despite your answer, he's already on his way to the car.

“I know. I’m still coming.”

A few minutes later, Simon arrived outside your house. He stayed out of sight, leaning against the bricks of the house and texting you again.

“Open the window”

You appeared a minute later, cautiously peeking through your bedroom window. He gave you a small wave, a gentle smile, and held up the takeout bags he’d picked up on the way over.