love is hard

Taking a deep breath, Minnie knocked on the rotting wood door that was once the color blue.

 “I don’t have any money for you!” A gruff voice yelled out from within.

 “Mom? It’s me.” Minnie called out and pushed the door slightly. It was rotten enough to open on its own.

“What do you want?” The voice replied from within. The floor was strewn with clothes and rotting food. A few cats walked around the house, seeming emaciated and nearly feral. Her nose crinkled at the smell of Cat feces and rotten food along with what must be some sort of decay.

“Mom?” Minnie walked to where she knew the woman would be- The bedroom. The once glorious house with its homey and cozy look was now in shambles and unrecoverable. The bedroom where they had spent many a night as a family, laughing and chatting was now a hoarding nightmare. Random junk lined the room and the stench was intolerable. The mattress itself had rotted around the woman that Minnie once knew as her mother.

She had aged… looking far beyond her years. Her grey hair was matted and her clothes were in tatters, her arms were spotted with insect bites and needle-pricks.

 “Oh no…” Minnie frowned. This had gotten worse than what it was a few months ago. The crazy look in her eyes made it all worse.

 “you came here to get something?” Her mother asked.

“I haven’t… the house is going to be condemned by the city if we don’t fix this mom.” Minnie implored, “Please… listen to me. I’ll send you to rehab… and I’ll get the house fixed-“

 “No… no rehab.” Her mother shook her head, “I need money… I uh, want to buy soap.”

“I’ll buy you the soap and some groceries but I can’t give you any money…” Minnie shook her head, “I’m sorry-“

 “Get out!”

Minnie’s heart sank as her mother’s harsh words pierced the air. The room felt colder, heavier, as if the walls themselves were closing in. She wanted to stay, to help, but every time she tried, her mother pushed her away—just like she always had.

Minnie took a step back, her throat tightening as she struggled to hold back tears. The woman in front of her wasn’t the mother she remembered. The vibrant, lively woman who had once held her close and promised everything would be okay was gone. In her place stood this shell of a person, consumed by addiction and apathy.

Her eyes flickered toward the door, but she knew leaving without at least trying to reach her mother would haunt her.

“I don’t want your money, Minnie,” her mother’s voice broke the silence again, sounding almost pitiful. “I want you to leave me alone. I can’t do this anymore. Not the way you want.”

Minnie’s breath hitched. “I’m not giving up on you, Mom,” she said, her voice trembling, “But I can’t fix this for you. You have to want it for yourself. I can't keep pretending like everything's fine when you’re…”

Her voice trailed off. How could she finish that sentence? How could she say out loud what she already knew? That her mother was beyond help?

Her mother’s expression hardened. “You don’t know anything about me, Minnie. You’re living this perfect little life now. You think you’re better than me.”

“No, I don’t.” Minnie shook her head quickly. “I’m just trying to help you. I don’t want you to live like this anymore. I love you mom and-”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything? You don’t love me, you would give me money if you did. I don’t love you… everything I love died the day your father did.”

Minnie’s gaze softened, her anger dissipating as she looked at the hollow woman before her. She knew her mother wasn’t herself anymore, that this wasn’t her, not really. She was just a product of the addiction, of the years of neglect, and Minnie was tired of pretending there was a quick fix.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, filled with all the unspoken words and bitter regrets. Minnie stood there for a moment longer, her eyes lingering on her mother, hoping for something—anything—that might hint at a glimmer of the woman she used to know. But there was nothing.

“It’s okay if you don’t love me… I love you enough for the both of us…” She whispered softly.

With a final glance, Minnie turned and made her way to the door, her heart shattering with every step. The house behind her felt suffocating, like the memory of a life she could never get back. She closed the door quietly behind her, the echo of it ringing in her ears.

Outside, the weight of the world pressed down on her shoulders. Her feet moved almost mechanically as she walked, each step taking her further from that broken house—and the mother she didn’t know anymore.

As she walked down the street, her mind swirled. The thought of Ethan, of everything she had been through, of the secret she still kept from him... It all tangled together, and she couldn’t help but wonder if things would ever feel right again.

And then, almost as if by instinct, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She pulled it out, almost dreading the distraction, but when she saw the name on the screen, her stomach flipped.

Ethan Lockwood.

She hesitated for only a second before swiping to answer, trying to steady her breath. "Hello?"

“Ruby? Can we meet?” He asked. his voice immediately did something to her. Made her feel better which worried her.

“I’ll be there,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside her.

As she ended the call, she took a deep breath. There was a certain weight that came with being involved in his life. A weight she hadn’t fully understood before. And now, after everything with her mother, she knew there was no turning back. Whatever happened next with Ethan, whatever feelings were beginning to form... it wasn’t going to be simple.

But one thing was clear: Ethan needed her, just as much as she needed him.

She just hoped, for both their sakes, she was strong enough to navigate whatever lay ahead.

---------------------------------\

The rain had begun to pour in earnest, pattering steadily against the window as Ethan sat on the edge of the couch, his fingers tapping against his leg in an anxious rhythm. Tonight felt different. Ruby hadn’t arrived at their usual time, and that small, missing piece of routine was gnawing at him more than he expected. He tried to focus on something else—anything else—but his mind kept drifting back to the woman who had become a constant in his life, the one person he could count on.

Ethan wasn’t happy with the fact that he relied on her so much. But much like an addict he justified himself, telling himself that he was simply using her and she was using him as well.

When the door finally creaked open, Ethan stood up immediately, his pulse quickening. There she was, standing just inside the doorway, drenched from the rain, her mask as pristine as always. But something about her was... off. She seemed different. Not the guarded version of herself from the past few weeks, but still not quite the woman he had gotten used to either.

“Ruby…” Ethan said, his voice tentative. “You’re late tonight. Everything okay?”

Ruby paused, her gaze flicking down for a second before meeting his. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that,” she replied, her voice a little too soft, a little too quiet. She stepped inside, slowly removing her coat, but there was a hesitation in her movements, a faintness in the way she carried herself.

“You sure you’re alright?” Ethan asked, unable to hide the concern in his voice. He moved closer, his eyes narrowing as he tried to read her. He could tell she was trying to mask something, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“I’m fine,” Ruby replied quickly, a little too quickly, and there it was—a slip. The mask she wore wasn’t just physical anymore; it was emotional, too. She wasn’t being entirely honest with him, and he could sense it. But it wasn’t like the coldness he’d sensed in her before. This time, she seemed... distant in a different way. Like she was trying to hold on to something, but it was slipping through her fingers.

Ethan took a cautious step toward her. “ If something’s bothering you, you can talk to me, you know that.”

She blinked, almost surprised by the softness in his words. For a moment, her eyes softened, and Ethan could see a flash of vulnerability—a crack in the armor she so carefully constructed. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“I’m just tired. Long day,” Ruby said, her tone attempting to sound casual, but her voice was uneven. She managed a small, tight smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You know how it is. So, how did the uh day go?”

Ethan could tell she was trying—trying so hard to keep the conversation light. But it wasn’t working. He wasn’t buying it, and she knew it.

Ethan’s heart tightened as he studied her face. There was something in her eyes—a mix of exhaustion, frustration, and something else he couldn’t quite place. She wasn’t trying to push him away like she had before, but she was still keeping him at arm’s length.

“You don’t have to act like everything’s okay,” Ethan said, his voice gentle but insistent. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m not going anywhere. You can tell me when you're ready.”

Ruby sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. She finally stepped closer, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, her fingers brushing lightly against his as she did. There was something tender in the way she let her hand rest against his, almost as if she were trying to make a connection but was afraid to completely let go.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the only sound the faint hum of the rain outside. Ethan watched her, his gaze softening, his concern growing. He wasn’t going to push her, but the tension between them was palpable, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was just beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry,” Ruby said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t be acting like this. It’s just... it’s been a long week.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Ethan said quickly, his voice reassuring. “You don’t owe me anything.”

But Ruby didn’t seem convinced. She withdrew her hand from his, rubbing her fingers against the fabric of her skirt. “I’m fine, really. I don’t need your sympathy.”

Her words hurt, but Ethan smiled regardless,. “It’s not sympathy. It’s... concern.”

Her lips parted for a second, as if she were about to say something, but then she closed them again, a small frown tugging at the corner of her mouth. She hesitated before finally speaking, her voice quieter this time.

“I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m not... I’m not someone who needs saving, okay?”

Ethan watched her carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly. There was a defensiveness in her voice, something sharp and protective. But it wasn’t the same coldness from before. It was something else—something that made his chest ache with an unfamiliar ache.

“I’m not trying to save you,” Ethan said softly. “I’m just here. I’m just... here for you.”

Ruby met his gaze then, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of something—an emotion so raw, so real, that Ethan almost couldn’t believe it. But just as quickly, it vanished. She quickly pulled her gaze away, looking out the window as the rain continued to fall.

“I should go,” she said, standing abruptly. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I’m just not in the right place tonight.”

Ethan stood up too, his heart sinking. He didn’t want her to leave—not when she was so close to letting him in.

“Ruby, wait—”

But she was already by the door, opening it with a soft click. She turned back to him, her mask hiding whatever she was really feeling, but there was something in her eyes that gave her away. Something vulnerable. Something real.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” she said softly, the words lingering in the air as she stepped out into the night, leaving Ethan standing in the doorway, more confused and concerned than ever.