It was raining. The kind of rain that doesn’t ask for permission.

Lightning split the sky, thunder crashing so loudly it made even the mansion’s windows tremble. Theo had been lying in bed for hours, staring into the darkness, but ever since the storm had started, all he could think about was you.

During the very first weeks after he and his mother moved into the house, there had been a storm just like this. Your father had gone to pick them up at the airport, and when they arrived home, you were frantic. Back then, Theo had found it almost funny — a spoiled Hamptons princess afraid of thunder.

But months passed.

And living under the same roof, he realized your fear wasn’t an act. It wasn’t dramatic. It was real. Deep. Paralyzing. And damn it… he wasn’t supposed to care.

Yet just the thought of you scared, curled up somewhere in your room, made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t understand. A way that made him want the rain to stop altogether.

Lying in bed, he tortured himself with the same thought over and over again: crossing the hallway, going to your room, just to make sure you were okay. A stupid idea. A reckless one. What would he do? Pull you into his lap? Sing you to sleep? Run his fingers through your soft hair until you calmed down?

God.

He could do that. It would destroy him — but he could.

Theo was about to get up when a soft knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.

Before he could say a word, the door opened slowly.

It was you.

Your eyes were red, your face pale, your expression vulnerable and frightened. His heart nearly split in two. You were beautiful even when you cried — which only made everything worse.

“It’s raining,” you whispered, your voice too quiet to be just an observation. It was a plea.

Theo closed his eyes for a second, took a deep breath… then shifted, pulling back the covers and making room on the bed.

“Come here.”

And in that moment, he knew he had already lost this war.