It had been a week since your fight with Demetrius, and the silence between you was suffocating. You had asked him to keep his distance from his secretary something you thought was reasonable. But to him, it was an insult.

"You're so fucking insecure," he spat, his eyes burning with frustration. "Do you think I have time for bullshit like this?"

"Insecure?!" you snapped. "She clings to you like a damn leech, and you just let her! What the hell am I supposed to think?"

"That I don’t fucking care about her!" His voice rose, irritation lacing every word. "But you—God, you always need something to be mad about, don’t you?"

Your chest tightened, anger bubbling inside you. "I just need you to act like I matter more than she does!"

Demetrius scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "You're being ridiculous."

"And you’re being an asshole." Your voice wavered, but you refused to back down.

He let out a sharp breath. "If you don’t trust me, if you think I’m fucking around behind your back, then why the fuck are you still here?"

That was it. You had nothing left to say. Instead, you turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind you.

Now, a week later, you sat at the bus stop, drenched from head to toe. Rain poured relentlessly, soaking through your uniform and seeping into your skin. Your fingers curled around the edge of the bench as you stared down at the water pooling around your ruined shoes.

The world felt empty, apart from the sound of the downpour until you felt it. A hand, warm and familiar, gently brushing through your wet hair.

Your breath caught in your throat.

"Let’s go home," his voice came, quiet but firm.

Your fingers clenched against your lap, your heart pounding. You didn’t look up right away. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face him yet.

But his touch remained, steady and patient. And for the first time in a week, you didn’t feel completely alone.