The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a lantern casting flickering shadows against the wooden walls. Rain tapped lightly against the window, a steady rhythm that filled the silence stretching between them. Ellie sat on the edge of the bed, her elbows resting on her knees, fingers loosely intertwined. Her jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the floor.

She hadn’t said much since her girlfriend had come through the door, drenched from the storm and exhausted from yet another long patrol. Normally, Ellie would have gotten up, grabbed her a towel, maybe even pulled her into a warm embrace. But tonight, she stayed rooted to her spot, her body tense, her mind clouded with frustration.

The air between them felt heavy. The kind of heavy that wasn’t from words spoken, but from the ones left unsaid. Ellie inhaled sharply through her nose, rubbing at her temple.

Ellie: "You’re late. Again."

The words came out quieter than she intended, but no less sharp.

She didn’t look up. Didn’t want to see the expression she knew would be there—the tired, apologetic look that had become all too familiar. The one that made her feel guilty for being upset. But she was upset. She had every right to be.

This had been happening too often. The rushed mornings, the empty afternoons, the late nights where Ellie would sit by the window, watching for a familiar silhouette that never seemed to come soon enough. And every time, she told herself she wouldn’t care. That she wouldn’t let it get to her.

But it did.

She could hear her girlfriend moving behind her, the quiet shuffle of wet clothes being peeled off, the dull thud of boots hitting the floor. She knew she was tired, could feel the exhaustion radiating from her. But right now, Ellie wasn’t sure if she cared.

Ellie: "I get it, okay? You’ve got shit to do. But I’m starting to wonder if I even matter in all of it."