unexpected love (Leah Williamson)

Unspoken Strength

Leah's POV

Beth's place was cozy, as always, with blankets strewn over the couch and pillows everywhere, creating a perfect nest for a movie night. After our dinner out, we'd all decided to extend the evening. It had been a while since we'd done this, and the familiarity of Beth's apartment made me feel at ease, especially after noticing how quiet Ella had been tonight. I'd felt her struggling but hadn't pressed, trusting that when she was ready, she'd open up.

Ella nestled close to me on the couch, her head on my chest, her breaths deep and even. Her quiet weight against me was a comfort, like the night was giving us a soft pause, a moment of calm that I knew she needed. Across from us, Viv was asleep too, her head resting against Beth's shoulder, the flickering light from the movie casting soft shadows over her peaceful face.

I glanced over at Beth, and she gave me a look that I knew meant she had something on her mind. After a moment, she gently shifted, letting Viv settle deeper against her without waking. Beth nodded toward the kitchen, and I carefully extricated myself from Ella's hold, tucking a blanket around her before joining Beth.

In the kitchen, we kept our voices low, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around us.

"She's been struggling, hasn't she?" Beth asked, a softness in her eyes that made me want to trust her with everything I'd noticed about Ella. I knew she had a keen sense of things, especially with those she cared about. If Beth had noticed, I didn't want to hide anything from her.

I nodded slowly, glancing toward the living room. "Yeah. She's been... distant. Like she's carrying something heavy but doesn't want anyone to see it."

Beth sighed, crossing her arms. "She mentioned some things to me tonight when we stepped outside. I think she's feeling ashamed that she's struggling, like she shouldn't be. But that's the thing with this sort of stuff... it doesn't just disappear."

Her words struck a deep chord. I'd known that Ella had been through a lot in the past, but hearing it like this brought it closer, made me see just how hard it must be for her to manage it all. "Did she tell you why?"

Beth hesitated, then nodded. "She didn't go into detail, but I could tell it's been weighing on her. She's so used to taking care of everyone else... I think it's hard for her to lean on others, even when she needs it."

I looked down, my heart tightening with worry. Ella was everything to me, and seeing her in pain—even when she tried so hard to hide it—was like feeling it myself. "I just want her to feel like she can tell me... but I don't want to push her. Sometimes it's like she's right here with me, and then other times, it's like she's a million miles away."

Beth placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, a calm strength in her gaze. "Leah, I think she knows you're there for her, more than anyone else. But sometimes, even when we know people love us, it can be hard to open up. Give her time. Let her know you're there without any pressure. Sometimes that's all we need to take the first step."

Her words settled something in me, a small comfort in the midst of all the worry. I knew Beth understood; she'd been through her own struggles, her own moments of silence and vulnerability. And seeing her strength, her ability to empathize without judgment, gave me hope that maybe, I could be that same steady presence for Ella.

"Thank you, Beth," I murmured, my voice quiet. "It helps to know she's got you too."

Beth smiled, a warmth in her gaze. "We're all here for her, Leah. And for you too. Loving someone who's going through something like this can be hard—you don't have to do it alone."

The simple honesty of her words made me feel lighter, like I wasn't carrying this alone. We stood in silence for a moment, letting it sink in, the weight of unspoken promises lingering between us. Eventually, we made our way back to the living room, finding Ella and Viv just as we'd left them, still curled up in peaceful slumber.

I sat down carefully, pulling Ella close to me again, feeling her warmth against my side. Beth settled in with Viv, glancing over at me with a gentle nod before we returned our attention to the screen. The movie played on, but my mind drifted, thinking of ways I could support Ella, to let her know I was here for her without adding pressure.

The quiet hum of the movie filled the room, but it was almost like I could hear the rhythm of Ella's breathing, steady and soft against me. I didn't mind the silence; it was comforting in a way, a kind of unspoken understanding between us. My fingers kept gently combing through her hair, tracing the soft strands with a tenderness I hadn't realized I was capable of until I had her in my arms.

Beth's words had settled into my chest, and though the uncertainty still lingered, there was a quiet reassurance in knowing that Ella had a network around her. I just needed to be patient, to wait for the moment when Ella would let me in completely, without fear of burdening me.

Still, a part of me couldn't help but wonder what Ella was truly holding onto. What made her feel like she had to carry everything alone? There had been moments, fleeting as they were, when I thought I saw a glimpse of whatever it was weighing on her. But she always pulled away, hiding it beneath a smile or a gentle touch, as if she didn't want to burden me with her struggles. I knew how that felt. I had been the same way once.

I glanced back over at Beth, whose steady presence seemed to bring a sense of calm to the room. Viv's soft snores were a gentle reminder of how peaceful the night was. As I leaned back against the couch, my thoughts began to drift again, but this time, they were a little more focused. I needed to make sure Ella knew she wasn't a burden to me, and that I wasn't going anywhere.

The idea came to me slowly—an invitation to create a space where she could be herself, without the weight of expectations or fears that she would be a burden. Something simple. A place where she could let down the walls she'd built around herself. I didn't have all the answers yet, but I knew that small gestures, just showing up for her, could go a long way.

Beth caught my eye and gave me another gentle nod, one that seemed to acknowledge the weight of the moment. I gave her a small, appreciative smile before turning my attention back to Ella, feeling her soft form pressed against me. I could feel the faintest tremor in her body as she exhaled, and I tightened my hold on her just a little, offering her the comfort she hadn't yet asked for.

I would give her time, just like Beth had said. And when she was ready, I would be here. And for now, that was enough.

Ella shifted slightly in her sleep, and I whispered her name softly, my voice barely above a murmur. Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn't wake. I smiled, brushing a kiss against her forehead, knowing that whatever she was going through, she wasn't alone.

We'd get through it. Together.

And with that thought, I settled deeper into the couch, letting the sounds of the movie wash over me as I kept watch over Ella, who had, without even realizing it, started to let her guard down. She just needed time. And I would be here, with patience, love, and an open heart, for however long it took.

The night stretched on quietly, the weight of the world outside seeming so distant in this peaceful bubble of warmth and care. And I was grateful for it. Grateful for this moment, for the space to breathe, for the comfort of being surrounded by people who understood.

Tomorrow, I would find a way to show Ella she wasn't alone. But tonight, I would simply be here, holding her close, and letting her rest.