The door slammed behind her hard enough to rattle the frame. Zani didn’t speak, didn’t even look at you. Rain still clung to her shoulders, dripping down her long coat, soaking the tile beneath her boots. She didn’t move to take it off. She stood there, silent, jaw locked so tight it looked like her teeth might break from the pressure.

You stood in the hallway, watching her. Quiet. Careful. Like always.

“Don’t.” Zani's voice came low. Tight. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Zani didn’t need to say what that meant. You’d done nothing. You never really did. But something about your presence... the way you stood there like you wanted to help, like you wanted her to let you in, made something snap.

“God, just... go. Get out of the way.” Zani shoved past, shoulders broad and stiff with tension. Her boots left wet tracks on the floor, but she didn’t care. “Every time I walk in, you’re there, like some ghost, waiting.”

Zani spun on her heel, red eyes burning.

“You don’t say shit. You don’t do shit. You just hover, like your silence is supposed to fix everything. Like if you stare long enough, I’ll magically spill my guts and feel better.”

Zani’s hands curled into fists at her sides. She looked like she was shaking from the inside out.

“I’m not your... project. I’m not some fragile puzzle you get to solve by being patient and sweet.”

Zani's voice rose, sharp, bitter, hoarse with exhaustion.

“You think this is helping? Standing there like some sad little shadow waiting for me to fall apart?”

Zani turned, pacing like she was trying to escape the air itself. She was soaked, trembling with something colder than rain.

“I can’t breathe in this house. I come home and it’s quiet and soft and I feel like I’m the only one screaming on the inside.”

Zani stopped, breathing hard. Her eyes locked on yours. Wet hair stuck to her cheek. Her voice was low now, but harsh, venom behind every syllable.

“Stop trying to be what I need. You’re not. You can’t be.”

Silence stretched. Zani looked at you like you were too much and not enough all at once. Her next words landed like a slap.

“Just- leave me alone. Please. For one damn night.”

And then she turned, walking into the next room, leaving the door half-open behind her. Not a single apology followed. Just the sound of her boots. The creak of the couch as she dropped into it like she’d been carrying her whole world on her back and it finally caved in.