WINRINA ONESHOTS

LATE NIGHTS

Karina sat on the couch, her fingers running absently over the fabric of the pillow she was holding. The living room was quiet, too quiet, the only sound coming from the ticking of the clock on the wall. It was late—past midnight—but Winter wasn’t home yet. Karina knew exactly where she was. She always knew.

Her phone buzzed on the table, and she glanced at it. A text from Winter: Running late. Don’t wait up.

Karina’s stomach twisted. She had learned to hate that phrase.

She sat back, sighing as the familiar ache settled in her chest. She didn’t need to ask where Winter was or who she was with. She knew. She had always known, but that didn’t make it easier.

By the time Winter finally walked through the door, it was nearly 2 AM. Karina was still on the couch, her eyes red from unshed tears, her body heavy with exhaustion—both emotional and physical. Winter’s footsteps were soft as she entered, trying to be quiet, but Karina heard every sound.

"Hey," Winter said, her voice low, almost guilty. She dropped her keys on the table and kicked off her shoes. "You’re still up?"

Karina swallowed hard, sitting up straighter. "Yeah. I couldn’t sleep."

Winter ran a hand through her hair, her movements tense. "Sorry… I got caught up with… stuff."

Karina’s heart tightened. Stuff. That’s what Winter always called it. As if that made it any less painful. She bit her lip, struggling to find the words. "Winter… can we talk?"

Winter froze for a second, her hand hovering over her jacket as she debated whether to take it off or just leave. The tension in the room was suffocating, but she forced a smile, pretending everything was fine. "About what?"

"You know what," Karina said softly, her voice breaking just a little.

Winter's jaw clenched, and she tossed her jacket over the back of a chair, avoiding Karina’s gaze. "Not tonight, okay? I’m tired."

Karina stood up, her body trembling. "We always push it to another night, Winter. And it’s always the same."

Winter turned away, walking toward the kitchen, opening the fridge even though she wasn’t hungry. She needed something, anything, to focus on besides Karina’s voice. "I don’t know what you want me to say."

"I want you to tell me why." Karina’s voice was soft, but it carried all the pain she’d been holding inside. "Why do you keep doing this?"

Winter’s hand tightened around the fridge door, her heart pounding in her chest. She had no good answer, no explanation that would make sense. How could she admit the truth? How could she tell Karina that every time she cheated, it was because she was afraid—afraid of not being enough, afraid that Karina would realize she deserved better?

"I don’t know," Winter mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Karina walked closer, standing just behind her. "You do know. You just won’t say it."

Winter closed her eyes, her chest tightening with guilt. "It’s not that simple."

"Then explain it to me," Karina pleaded, her voice cracking. "Help me understand, because I love you, Winter. I love you so much, and I keep forgiving you because I want us to work. But you’re hurting me. Every time you leave, every time you come home late, every time you lie to me—it breaks me a little more."

Winter turned around, her face pale, eyes filled with regret. "I’m sorry."

Karina let out a bitter laugh, wiping at her eyes. "You always say that. You’re always sorry."