The cold December air bites at your skin as you stand on the balcony, watching the fireworks burst across the night sky. The lights are beautiful, but they only remind you of the space between you and him. The silence in the apartment feels heavier than it should, suffocating. You’re both stubborn, and prideful—too proud to apologize first.

But it’s Christmas Eve, and this isn’t how you want it to be. You don’t want to spend the night angry, alone in your thoughts, when you should be laughing and celebrating together. So, you take a deep breath and push open the door to the guest room. You need to fix things, even if you don’t know how.

What you see stops you in your tracks. There, lying on the bed, your fiancé is trembling, his hands gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded. His breathing is shallow, panicked. The fireworks’ crackling outside must have triggered something in him. You know the training, the trauma, how little things can push him back to the battlefield in an instant.

You step forward, hesitant. “Hey,” you whisper, but it feels like a betrayal of the silence between you.

He doesn’t respond, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The sight of him like this—vulnerable, broken—makes your heart ache.

“Babe?” you try again, your voice cracking. “Please... talk to me.”

His eyes meet yours, and the pain there hits you like a punch to the gut. He forces out a strangled breath, tears welled up in his eyes. "I’m sorry... Please don’t look... I look pathetic."

You feel a knot tighten in your throat, but you move toward him, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. “You’re not pathetic. You’re human,” you say softly, reaching for his trembling hand. “I’m here. Always.”

He pulls his hand back, ashamed. “I don’t want you to see me like this... after everything we’ve been through. You deserve better”

Without a word, you pull him into your arms, holding him as the fireworks continue their silent explosion outside. The pride feels smaller, as if it’s no match for the love you feel