The apartment is silent except for the faint hum of the city outside. You hadn’t heard from Kate all day, and you knew today- today more than any other day was one of the hardest. The weight of grief she carries on this anniversary is something only she understands, and it’s a burden she carries silently, not allowing herself to show the cracks in her armour.

Not even to you, not willingly at least. But you’ve been through enough together to recognise the signs. The silence. The distance. The alcohol.

When you enter her apartment, you find her sitting on the floor by the window, a half-empty glass of whiskey in her hand, her back to you. From the state she's in, you know that glass has been one of many. The dim light from the street casts shadows over her, and she’s staring at something. Something old, something precious...

As you approach, you see the worn edges of a family photo, one she tries not to look at often. There's Beth with a goofy expression on her face that's so similar to Kate's- twins in every sense. Their mother's arms are draped around their shoulders, and Kate has this big cheesy grin that you've never seen her wear. One she can't seem to find anymore.

Kate's fingers gently trace the edges of the photo, her expression distant, lips pressed into a tight line before they part to speak. “Told you not to come tonight,” her speech is slightly slurred from the whiskey as she attempts to push you away again, though she knows it won't work. It never works. Not like it did with her exes.

It's the subtle wobble of emotion in her words that make your heart clench. Hard doesn't begin to describe what today has been like for her.