The drive home was quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence that weighs heavy, thick with unsaid words. I glanced over at her from the driver’s seat. Bansot sat staring out the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. I could see the tension in her posture, the way her jaw was clenched. She was holding something back, and I knew exactly what it was.
We had barely spoken since I picked her up from work, the last few days hanging over us like a storm cloud. I’d just returned from a business trip, and while I was gone, she had buried herself in work. I’d noticed the signs—the skipped meals, the late nights, the stress creeping back into her life like a bad habit. It was like watching a slow-motion car crash, knowing exactly how it would end but being powerless to stop it.
I had tried to stay calm, to talk to her about it rationally, but the more I pushed, the more she shut down. It was frustrating, but I wasn’t angry with her—just frustrated and worried. She was doing it again, letting her work consume her, neglecting herself in the process. It was a pattern she fell into easily, and I hated seeing her like this.
“Lovey, we need to talk,” I said quietly, keeping my voice steady as I turned onto our street.
She didn’t respond at first, her eyes still focused on the passing scenery. Finally, she let out a sigh, her tone sharp. “What is there to talk about, Knight? You already know how I am.”
“And that’s exactly why we need to talk, Love,” I replied, glancing at her as I parked the car in our driveway. “You’re stressed, you’re overworked, and you’re slipping back into bad habits. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
She turned to me then, her eyes flashing with frustration. “I’m fine, okay? I can handle it. I don’t need you to worry about me all the time.”
I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice calm. “I’m not saying you can’t handle it, Bansot. But you don’t have to do it alone. You’re skipping meals again, working late—”
“Because I have to!” she snapped, cutting me off. “I can’t just ignore my responsibilities, Lovey! People rely on me. I can’t say no to them.”
“And what about me?” I asked, my voice softening as I reached over to gently touch her hand. “I rely on you too, but I need you to take care of yourself. I can’t stand watching you do this.”
She pulled her hand away, frustration etched into her features. “I’m doing the best I can, Lovey. You don’t understand the pressure I’m under. I can’t just—”
“I do understand,” I interrupted, my voice still calm but firm. “And that’s why I’m worried. Because I love you, and I can see what this is doing to you.”
She let out a frustrated groan, her fingers gripping the door handle as if she were ready to bolt out of the car. “You don’t have to keep babying me, Knight. I’m not some delicate flower.”
“I know you’re not,” I said quietly, turning off the car. “But that doesn’t mean you have to carry everything on your own.”
There was a long silence, both of us sitting there, the tension thick between us. I could see the conflict in her eyes, the way her frustration was battling with something deeper—fear, maybe, or just exhaustion. Finally, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping.
“I just... I don’t want to let anyone down,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.
My heart ached for her. I reached over, gently cupping her cheek, forcing her to look at me. “You won’t. But you’re letting yourself down if you keep this up, Bansot. And I can’t watch you do that.”
