The memory of the resort stayed with them long after they left—not the place, but the feeling. The way Zoe reached for Stacy's hand without thinking. The way Stacy looked at her like she finally had something worth fighting for. They didn't argue about uncertainty or hesitation. They just chose each other, quietly, every day.
But the real world didn't make it easy.
Weeks rolled by, and life settled into a fragile rhythm of uncertainty. They still hadn't landed steady jobs. Most mornings began with checking messages and refreshing listings, hoping for a reply that never came. On better days, luck found them—Zoe picked up a short-term office post, or one of them landed a tutoring job that bought them a little time. It was never enough to feel secure, but it was enough to keep going.
Bills piled, groceries fluctuated, and their phones constantly buzzed with "just checking in on your application" emails that led nowhere. They were tired—deeply, achingly tired.
But they were also building something.
They learned how to split a cheap take-out meal and turn it into laughter. They learned each other's stress tells, each other's tempers, each other's silences. They learned how to fall asleep tangled together on a couch that was too small and wake up somehow grateful anyway.
It wasn't glamorous or easy. But they were in it—together. And most days, that was enough.
Zoe walked through the front door, exhausted, the familiar creak of the hinge announcing her arrival.
"Hey babe!" Stacy called from the other room. "Do you notice anything?"
Zoe paused, scanning the small living space. "Hmm... let me guess..."
She narrowed her eyes dramatically, then pointed. "You changed the curtains?"
"Yes! And I washed the previous one too," Stacy beamed, stepping into view. "I finally figured out how to use the washing machine."
Zoe chuckled, slipping off her shoes. "You didn't have to do that. I could've taken care of it."
"You're already working. I'm still job hunting," Stacy said with a shrug. "This is the only way I can contribute right now."
Zoe walked over, placing her bag gently on the table. But as she glanced at Stacy's hands, her smile faded.
"Wait..." she said softly, reaching out and gently taking Stacy's hand. The skin was red, irritated—like it had been scrubbed raw. "What happened to your hands?"
"It's nothing," Stacy said quickly, trying to pull away.
Zoe didn't let go. Her thumb brushed carefully across the reddened skin.
"It looks like an allergic reaction... maybe from the detergent?" she said, her brow furrowed. "Stace, you're not used to this kind of stuff. And that's okay. You don't have to hurt yourself just to feel helpful."
Stacy's eyes dropped, a quiet sigh slipping out. "I just... I needed to do something, you know? You've been working so hard, and I'm just here."
"You're not just anything," Zoe said, her voice gentle but firm. "You're here. That's everything to me. We'll get through this together, okay?"
She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Stacy's forehead. Stacy closed her eyes, letting herself breathe into the comfort of it.
Zoe smiled. "Now, sit down. I'll make tea and we'll put ointment to your hands. And I'm doing the laundry from now on."
"But I like the laundry now," Stacy joked weakly.
"Then you can supervise," Zoe replied, already walking toward the kitchen. "Teamwork."
-
Stacy sat on the edge of the couch, cradling her hands in her lap while Zoe rummaged through the bathroom drawer.
"Found it!" Zoe called, holding up a small tube of ointment. "You're lucky I'm always overprepared."
Stacy gave her a tired smile. "I'm starting to think you secretly enjoy fixing me."
"I do," Zoe grinned, kneeling in front of her. "Now give me those gremlin hands."
Stacy laughed softly and held them out. Zoe uncapped the ointment and gently squeezed a small amount onto her fingertips. She worked slowly, carefully smoothing it over the irritated skin in gentle circles.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, glancing up.
"A little," Stacy admitted.
Without missing a beat, Zoe leaned in and blew cool air across her hands. The sensation made Stacy shiver—but in the good kind of way.
"There," Zoe murmured. "Doctor Zoe's revolutionary treatment plan."
Stacy watched her, the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the softness in her eyes. "You always do that," she said quietly.
"Do what?"
"Make things better. Even when everything's falling apart."
Zoe didn't look up right away. She finished spreading the ointment, then gently held Stacy's hands in hers, thumbs brushing against her palms.
"I don't know if I'm making anything better," she said honestly. "But I'm not going anywhere. That much I can promise."
Stacy blinked fast, suddenly blinking back tears she hadn't expected. "Sometimes I feel like I'm slowing you down. Like you deserve more than—this."
Zoe leaned in, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
"I don't want more, Stacy. I want you. I don't care if we're rich, poor, living in a mansion or a shoebox. As long as I come home to you? I'm exactly where I want to be."
Stacy smiled through watery eyes. "You're such a sap."
Zoe grinned. "Only for you."
She blew another soft puff of air across Stacy's hands. "Better?"
Stacy nodded. "Yeah. Much."
Stacy leaned closer, resting her forehead against Zoe's, their breaths mingling in the quiet. The room felt warmer, steadier. Whatever tomorrow brought could wait. For now, they had this—soft hands, shared promises, and a love that made even the hardest days feel survivable.