It was raining hard. The discussion had been ugly. Screams, smot doors, hard silence.

Hours later, Vinnie was sitting on the living room floor, his back on the wall, his eyes down. She went down the stairs slowly, with her bare feet.

He looked up. Hurt.

“I hate it when we fight,” he said.

“Me too,” she replied.

Silence.

“I’m afraid of losing you,” he confessed, breaking the shell of pride. “Sometimes, it makes me act like an idiot.”

She approached and sat next to him. He leaned his head on his shoulder.

“So don’t be an idiot. Just stay.”

He intertwined his fingers in hers. Firms.

“Forever, if you let me.”