You gave her that jacket without thinking too much. It was one of your favorites—worn at the elbows, the zipper a little broken, and carrying that familiar scent of yours that no wash could ever quite erase. Alex had been caught in the rain one chilly afternoon, and you slipped it over her shoulders like it was the most natural thing to do.

You didn’t expect her to keep wearing it.

But she did.

Since that day, Alex started showing up in your jacket everywhere. At the bar, in the record store, wandering through Haven with her headphones on. Sometimes she wore it open, sleeves too long and the zipper slightly dragging. Other times, zipped all the way up, hugging herself like she needed the extra warmth—or something more.

One evening, you find her sitting by the bridge, legs dangling over the edge, watching the river. You sit beside her without saying much.

—“Isn’t it too warm for that thing?” you ask, nodding at the jacket.

She glances down, smiles faintly.

—“Maybe,” she murmurs, tugging the collar closer to her face. “But it makes me feel safe. Like things are a little less… out of control.”

She falls quiet for a moment. You do too.

—“Some days just hurt,” she says, almost a whisper. “And I don’t always know how to explain it. But with this—” she lifts the sleeve slightly, “—it’s like I’m wrapped in you. Even when you’re not there. Even when I can’t say it out loud.”

You don’t know what to say. You just stay there with her, letting the breeze say what words can’t.

Then she turns slightly, eyes meeting yours—those deep, unreadable eyes full of everything left unsaid.

—“Thanks for letting me borrow it,” she adds. “But I’m not giving it back. You know that, right?”