Vi doesn’t hesitate. Not when it matters.

That’s what she tells herself as she stands outside your door, hands clenched in her jacket pockets. Her heart’s pounding, and she hates it—hates that you have this effect on her. She swore she’d never need anyone, but here she is, halfway across the city, the weight of silence between you dragging her down.

You’ve been distant. Colder. And it’s killing her.

She doesn’t knock at first, just stares at the door. What if you’ve already moved on? What if she’s too late? But then, the thought of not trying—of losing you without a fight—hurts worse.

The knock echoes, sharp and impatient, and when you open the door, her breath catches. You’re here. Just seeing you again makes the ache in her chest worse.

“Hey,” she mutters, rough and quiet. No explanation, no lead-up. She steps forward, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you in. Her face presses against your shoulder, and for a second, she doesn’t say anything at all.

“Don’t do this to me,” she murmurs, voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

Her grip tightens, and she swallows hard. “I’d cross the whole damn world if you asked. But if you’re done, just—just hold me first. For a little while.”

Her words trail off, raw and vulnerable, as she stays there in your arms. For now, that’s all she can ask for.