The Weight of Staying
he said, her name stretched with warning, affection, and the thousand things he wasn’t saying.
"I’m going," she promised, voice steadier now, determination settling into her bones.
"Call me after," he instructed, the request gentle but firm, as if checking in could stave off whatever shadow hung at the edge of their conversation.
"I will," Laura replied, already halfway out the door, her hand gripping the cool knob, thumb pressed pale against the metal.
"And congratulations again," he added, the words laced with pride and the ache of distance, his voice a small tether to home.