𝙴𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚛 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ★ 𝙾𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 ★

𝒰𝓃𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒾𝓋𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

It was a late afternoon in October, and the world outside your bedroom window had taken on the warm hues of autumn. Leaves swirled lazily in the air, golden and red, dancing on the breeze. The sight would normally fill you with a kind of peaceful contentment, but today it felt like a distant world. The beauty outside might as well have been on another planet.

You hadn't moved from the bed all day. The sheets were tangled around your legs, your pillow pressed tightly against your chest as if it could somehow shield you from the weight pressing down on your chest. A faint breeze drifted through the crack in the window Eric had opened that morning, urging you to rise with the day, but here you still were, hours later, unmoved.

The thought of doing anything felt impossible. It wasn't that you didn't want to. You just couldn't. Your mind was a heavy fog, and every task seemed like climbing a mountain you didn't have the energy to face. Even breathing felt like effort some moments.

You could hear Eric moving around in the house, a soft backdrop of his usual rhythm. He was probably in the kitchen by now, making something to eat or working on one of his projects. He always found a way to stay busy, his energy like an endless supply, whether it was his music, repairing something around the house, or planning for the future. It was one of the many things you loved about him, how he kept moving forward no matter what.

But today, it also reminded you how different you felt. You couldn't help but feel left behind in comparison to his seemingly boundless energy. You were stuck, stagnant, and the thought of that only made the weight in your chest grow heavier.

You buried your face deeper into the pillow, fighting off the emotions swirling inside. You felt like you were letting him down. Eric deserved someone who could keep up with him, someone who could be his equal, not someone who spent the entire day in bed, drowning in their own thoughts. The idea made your stomach twist with guilt.

A soft knock came at the door, pulling you from your thoughts. You didn't respond, but you knew he would come in anyway—he always did. Eric never forced you to talk, never demanded explanations, but he was always there, checking on you, being present in the quiet ways that made all the difference.

The door creaked open, and a moment later, you felt the mattress dip beside you as Eric sat down. He didn't speak at first, just let his presence settle over you like a warm blanket. You felt his eyes on you before you felt his hand, warm and gentle, resting on your arm. He traced soft patterns over your skin, the sensation grounding you in the present, even as the heaviness remained.

"Hey," he finally said, his voice soft and tender. "You've been in here for a while."

You nodded slightly but didn't lift your head from the pillow. What could you say? There wasn't a clear reason why you felt this way. It wasn't like something specific had gone wrong today. The feelings had just been there from the moment you woke up, a gnawing emptiness that you couldn't shake.

Eric waited for a beat, then spoke again, even softer this time. "Are you okay?"

Your throat tightened at the question. You wanted to tell him that you were fine, that it was just a bad day, and it would pass, but the words wouldn't come. Because the truth was, you weren't okay. But admitting that felt like admitting defeat, and you didn't want him to see you like this—vulnerable, weak.

"I don't know," you whispered after a long pause. It was the most honest answer you could give.

Eric shifted beside you, his hand still on your arm. He didn't try to pull more from you, didn't ask for details. He just stayed there, his presence warm and steady like an anchor. That was one of the things you loved most about him—he never pushed you when you weren't ready to talk. He understood when you needed space, but also when you needed him close.