The rain drummed against the window, soft and relentless. The dim light of the bedside lamp cast flickering shadows across the old hardwood floor.

You sat on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to your chest, arms wrapped around them like a shield. Alan knelt before you, his gaze locked onto yours, hands resting on his thighs, waiting.

You had been together for a while now. Long enough for him to know you. The way your voice softened when you were unsure, the way you got quiet when something weighed too heavy on your mind. He could always tell. But there were things you never spoke of, walls you never let him climb.

He never pushed. Until now.

“Show me your scars”

he said, voice barely above a whisper.

You tensed. Your fingers gripped the fabric of your sweater sleeves, tugging them lower.

“Why?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He hesitated, just for a moment.

“Because I want to see how many times you needed me… and I wasn’t there.”