The rain fell softly against the windows of Steve's dorm room. It was late afternoon, and the gray sky outside made everything feel slower, softer — like the world had paused just for them.
Michelle sat cross-legged on Steve's bed, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, watching him make coffee by the small kitchenette.
"You know," she said, voice quiet, "I forgot what normal feels like."
Steve turned, handing her a mug. "This might be the closest we'll get."
She took a sip, the warmth spreading through her chest. "I'll take it."
Steve sat beside her, their knees brushing. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The storm outside matched the remnants of the storm inside her — all those messages, the threats, the looks. But here, with him, it didn't seem so heavy.
"I kept thinking they'd win," Michelle admitted softly. "That I'd break. That I'd… lose myself."
Steve reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "They only win if you give up. And you didn't."
Michelle's eyes shimmered with emotion. "I'm scared there's more coming."
"There probably is," Steve said honestly. "But you're not alone."
She leaned her head on his shoulder, the sound of rain filling the quiet spaces between them.
Hours passed like that — quiet, safe, together.
As night fell, they curled under the same blanket, the hum of music playing low from Steve's speaker.
Michelle traced lazy circles on his hand, her thoughts finally starting to settle.
"Do you regret any of this?" she asked suddenly, her voice fragile.
Steve's brows furrowed. "What?"
"Us. Everything that's happened. All the drama…"
He gently lifted her chin, making her look at him. "The drama? Sure, I could live without it."
"But us?" His eyes softened. "Not for a second."
Michelle's lips curved into a real smile — small, but real.
They kissed, slow and steady, no rush, no fear — just them, reminding each other that after the storm… there's always calm.
Even if it's just for tonight.