It was a cold evening, the kind that made the air crisp and sharp, biting at anyone who dared step outside without proper layers. Dimitri had just returned home from a long day of meetings and classes. The small apartment he called home was filled with the quiet hum of classical music, a calming ritual that helped him unwind. He was halfway through a book when his phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a message from Brielle: "Can I come over?"
There was something off in those words. They lacked her usual warmth and playfulness, the kind that colored their texts with light banter. A pang of worry shot through him, but before he could respond, another message followed: "I'm already outside."
Dimitri's heart sank as he quickly got up and went to the door. When he opened it, he found Brielle standing there, shivering in the cold. Her eyes were red, tear-streaked, and she wore no shoes, her feet bare against the rough pavement. She looked fragile, like a broken-winged bird caught in a sudden storm.
"Brielle," Dimitri breathed, immediately pulling her inside. "What happened? Why are you—?"
But she didn't let him finish. Instead, she collapsed into his arms, her body wracked with sobs. Dimitri held her tightly, his own heart breaking at the sight of her pain. He could feel the chill of her skin, the wetness of her tears soaking into his shirt as she clung to him.
"Brielle," he whispered, his voice thick with concern. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"
She couldn't speak right away. The sobs came in heavy waves, and Dimitri just stood there, holding her, letting her cry. He rubbed her back gently, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles as he tried to steady his own emotions. It wasn't often that he saw her like this—so vulnerable, so utterly lost.
After what felt like an eternity, Brielle's crying began to subside, the sobs fading into soft, hiccuping breaths. Dimitri guided her to the couch, still holding her close. He grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders, and then crouched in front of her, his hands cradling hers, gently warming her cold fingers.
"I'm sorry," Brielle finally murmured, her voice barely audible. "I didn't know where else to go."
Dimitri shook his head, his expression tender. "You don't ever have to apologize for coming to me. I'm always here for you. But please, tell me what's going on."
Brielle wiped at her eyes, her breath still shaky. She stared down at her hands, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the blanket as if trying to find the right words. "It's my family," she began, her voice cracking. "It's... it's always my family."
Dimitri's brows furrowed in concern, his mind racing with questions. He knew bits and pieces about Brielle's family—how her parents were strict, her siblings numerous—but she rarely spoke of them in detail. He hadn't realized just how deeply it all affected her until now.
"They don't... they don't care about me," Brielle continued, her words spilling out in a rush. "They've always favored my younger siblings. It's like I'm invisible, no matter what I do. I try so hard, Dimitri. I do everything they ask, and it's never enough. Tonight, I just... I couldn't take it anymore."
She choked on the last words, fresh tears welling in her eyes. Dimitri's heart ached at the rawness of her confession. He reached out, gently brushing a tear from her cheek. "I'm so sorry, Brielle," he said softly, his voice filled with empathy. "You deserve so much better than that."
Brielle nodded, her gaze still fixed on her hands. "They don't even notice when I'm gone," she whispered, her voice tinged with a bitter edge. "I left without shoes, without my phone, and no one cared. No one even called after me. I walked all the way here because I just... I needed to be somewhere I felt safe."
Dimitri's grip on her hands tightened, a protective instinct flaring within him. He wanted to shield her from every hurt, every unkind word or action that had ever made her feel less than she was. "You are safe here," he assured her, his tone fierce yet gentle. "With me, you are always seen, always valued."
Brielle finally looked up, meeting his eyes. There was so much pain there, so much longing for something she'd never received from the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally. Dimitri felt a surge of anger toward her family, a frustration that they couldn't see the incredible, compassionate, talented young woman he knew.
"You're more than enough, Brielle," Dimitri said, his voice firm. "You're smart, you're kind, you're brave. And you matter. To me, you matter so much."
Brielle's lower lip quivered, and she leaned forward, resting her forehead against Dimitri's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as if he could somehow absorb all her pain. He stroked her hair, whispering soothing words, his touch gentle and reassuring.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," Brielle murmured after a while, her voice muffled against his shirt. "You're the only person who makes me feel like I'm worth something."
Dimitri pulled back slightly, lifting her chin so she would look at him. "You are worth everything," he said, his eyes burning with sincerity. "Don't let anyone—family or otherwise—make you feel otherwise. You have a light inside you, Brielle, and it's beautiful. Don't ever let them dim that."
Brielle nodded, her eyes glistening with fresh tears, but this time there was a spark of something else—hope. Dimitri brushed a thumb across her cheek, wiping away the tears. "I love you," he said softly, the words like a balm on a wound. "And I will always be here to remind you of how incredible you are."
A small smile broke through Brielle's tears, and she leaned into his touch, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. "I love you too," she whispered. "Thank you for being here. For always being here."
Dimitri pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, pulling her into another embrace. They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them filled with unspoken promises and a quiet understanding that they were each other's safe haven. No matter what storms they faced—whether from within or from the outside world—they knew they had each other.
And that was a comfort more powerful than any words could ever express.
