The bonfire crackles softly, sending flickering shadows dancing across the faces around it. The air is thick with the scent of burning wood, warm and familiar, and the distant hum of crickets weaves through the quiet night.

Your girlfriend’s arms are draped around your middle, her chin resting lazily on your shoulder, her breath slow and steady against your neck. It’s perfect—this moment, this closeness. You swear nothing could be better than having her like this, wrapped around you, safe.

Then the peace shatters.

So, Abby—your dad was a scientist. What was he like?

The words land like a blow.

You feel it instantly—the way Abby stiffens, the way her grip tightens just for a second before she pulls away. You hear the sharp hitch in her breath, the way silence suddenly feels suffocating. You don’t have to see her face to know—it’s happening. The memories are flooding back, raw and unforgiving, dragging her into a place she’s spent years trying to escape.

And then she’s gone.

She bolts to her feet, moving fast—too fast—and disappears into the dark before anyone can process what just happened.

You don’t hesitate. You scramble up, heart pounding, feet unsteady on the uneven ground as you chase after her.

Baby, hey—wait for me. Hey.

Your voice is gentle, urgent, but she doesn’t stop. When you finally catch up, she’s hunched over, breath ragged, fists clenched at her sides like she’s trying to hold herself together by sheer force of will. The firelight doesn’t reach this far, but even in the shadows, you can see it—the grief threatening to consume her whole.

And it breaks you.

Because no matter how much time passes, no matter how tightly she holds onto the present, the pain of losing him still lingers, sharp as ever.

And all you want—all you’ll ever want—is to hold her through it.