The storm began just after sunset, rolling over the city with a low rumble that made the windows tremble in their frames. By the time Aaron drove home, the rain was coming down hard enough to blur the world into streaks of gray. Wind pushed against the car, shaking it with every gust. He tightened his grip on the wheel, trying to steady both the vehicle and the knot of tension that had lived in his chest for days.

He was tired—more than he wanted to admit. He had spent the entire day walking on eggshells at school, pretending the rumor about him and Claire didn’t bother him, pretending the stares in the staff room didn’t shrink something inside him. He hated rumors, hated the idea of being seen as someone he wasn’t, hated that he couldn’t shake it off the way everyone assumed he could.

By the time he parked outside the apartment, the rain was hitting so hard it sounded like static. He ran inside, soaked, shoulders hunched against the storm.

Julia was already home. She was at the dining table, laptop open, hair in a loose knot that had half-fallen apart. Papers were scattered everywhere—client drafts, notes, a half-eaten protein bar. She didn’t look up when he entered.

“Hey,” Aaron said, dripping near the door.

“Hey,” she murmured, eyes still scanning her screen.

“You okay?”

“Busy.”

He stood there for a second, waiting for more. There wasn’t more.

He showered, changed into dry clothes, and walked back out. The storm outside grew louder, lightning flashing across the walls for a brief moment. He sat across from her, watching her scan yet another email.

“How long have you been at this?” he asked.

“A while.”

“You’ve been working nonstop all week.”

“I don’t have a choice,” she said, voice tight.

The phrasing hit him like a déjà vu—she had said the same thing on the weekend, the same heavy resignation. This was becoming a pattern, one he didn’t know how to interrupt.

She typed another sentence, jaw clenched the way it got when she was past her limit.

“Did you eat?” he asked.

“I’ll eat later.”

“You said that last night too. And the night before.”

Julia exhaled sharply, finally lifting her gaze. “Aaron, I can’t right now. Just—please.”

He swallowed whatever response had tried to rise. The storm cracked outside, loud enough to shake the window.

He nodded slowly. “Okay.”

He stood, made dinner quietly, left a plate beside her, then sat on the couch with his laptop. The apartment felt too small for their separate silences, the storm pressing in from all directions.

After ten minutes, Julia called out, “Why are you sitting over there?”

“You’re working.”

She frowned. “That doesn’t mean you have to hide in the corner.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“It looks like hiding.”

“I’m trying to give you space.”

“I didn’t ask for space.”

Aaron stared at her for a moment. “Julia… you keep saying you don’t want pressure. I’m trying not to be pressure.”

She opened her mouth as if to answer, then closed it again. She looked down at her laptop, blinking slowly.

Lightning flashed. Thunder followed seconds later.

Julia took a shaky breath. “It's been a day.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make her feel worse, or overwhelmed, or cornered.

The storm outside roared again, sheets of rain hitting the building like fists.

Julia shut her laptop abruptly. The sound startled both of them.

“I can’t do this,” she said, voice trembling.

Aaron straightened. “Do what?”

“This.” She motioned vaguely—at the laptop, at the papers, at the storm, at herself. “All of this. I feel like I’m going to break.”

He stood slowly, stepping closer. “Hey, breathe. We’ll figure—”

“No,” she said, louder than she meant. “No more ‘we’ll figure it out.’ I am doing everything I can and nothing stops. Nothing slows down. Everything keeps coming.”

Her voice cracked. She pressed her palms against her forehead.

Aaron moved another step. “Julia—”

“Stop,” she whispered.

He froze.

“I’m so tired,” she said, tears finally spilling over. “I’m tired of being strong. I’m tired of pretending I’m fine. I’m tired of Melissa. I’m tired of delays. I’m tired of trying to hold myself together long enough to get through another day.”

Her shoulders shook with each breath. The storm outside seemed to pulse with her, thunder echoing her trembling voice.

Aaron’s chest tightened painfully. He hated seeing her like this, hated how small and overwhelmed she looked.

He reached out slowly. “You don’t have to hold everything alone.”

“That’s the problem!” she cried. “I *am* alone with it. Even when you’re here, I still feel like I’m drowning.”

The words hit him like a slap—not because she meant them to hurt, but because they came from a place too raw to be anything but honest.

He stepped back instinctively, breath unsteady. “I didn’t know you felt like that.”

“I didn’t either,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Not until right now.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The storm filled the silence, relentless.

Aaron took a slow breath. “Julia… if I’m part of what’s making this harder, tell me. I’ll change. I’ll do whatever—”

She shook her head urgently. “No. That’s not it. It's not you. It’s everything. It’s life. It’s work. It’s money. It’s the house. It’s all of it crushing at once.”

Her knees buckled slightly. Aaron caught her before she fell, guiding her to the couch. She sank against him, hands gripping his shirt, breath uneven.

“I can’t be okay all the time,” she whispered.

He tightened his arms around her. “You don’t have to be.”

“I feel like if I stop holding things together, everything will fall apart.”

Aaron rested his forehead gently against hers. “It won’t. I promise.”

She shook her head weakly. “You can’t promise that.”

His throat tightened. “You’re right. I can’t. But I can promise I won’t leave you to carry it alone.”

Julia’s breath hitched, a small sound that broke something open in him too.

He wrapped her fully in his arms, pulling her into his chest while the storm raged outside. She didn’t speak again—not words. Just quiet shaking breaths slowly beginning to settle.

Aaron held her through all of it.

Not fixing.  

Not solving.  

Just staying.

And for the first time in a long time, that was enough for both of them.