Zoe glanced at the clock again.
11:35 PM.
She chewed her thumbnail, pacing lightly near the window. Her phone buzzed uselessly in her hand—another call sent straight to voicemail.
She tried again.
Beep. "The number you've dialed is unavailable—"
Zoe hung up and muttered under her breath, "Where the hell are you, Stacy..."
Then—
Click.
The door unlocked with a slow, dragging sound. Zoe turned sharply.
Stacy stumbled through the doorway, her jacket half-off her shoulder, her eyes glassy.
Zoe rushed forward. "Where the hell have you—"
She stopped mid-sentence as Stacy nearly tripped over her own feet.
"Heyyy... you're still up," Stacy slurred softly, her smile crooked and tired.
Zoe caught her by the arm. Her breath reeked of alcohol.
"You're drunk." Zoe's voice was sharper than she meant. "I thought you said you had a tutoring gig tonight."
"I did," Stacy mumbled, her body swaying slightly. "I went. Then... I needed a drink. Or five."
Zoe's expression softened, concern flooding her features. "Come on, let's get you to bed."
She helped Stacy down the hallway, one arm around her waist. Stacy leaned heavily against her.
Once in the bedroom, Zoe gently eased her onto the bed. Stacy let out a long sigh, sinking into the mattress like she was finally letting herself fall.
Zoe turned to grab a towel and some water—but before she could take a step, she felt arms wrap around her from behind.
Stacy had pulled herself up and was hugging her. Tight. Her forehead pressed against Zoe's back. And then—
Zoe heard it.
The soft, ragged sound of sobbing.
She stopped moving, frozen in place for a second, then turned around slowly.
Stacy clung to her, eyes shut, face wet with tears.
Zoe knelt beside the bed and wrapped her arms around her without a word.
They stayed like that—still, heavy in the silence.
Then Stacy's voice broke through, hoarse and cracked.
"My mom came here this morning," she said. "She found me. She said she was sorry. Said she wanted me to come home."
Zoe said nothing. Just kept her arms around her, grounding her.
Stacy shook her head, her voice trembling now. "And it hurts, Zoe. It hurts so fucking much. Because I know what they did to me is unforgivable. I know that. They made me feel like I wasn't enough. Like I didn't belong in my own skin."
Her breath hitched. "I want to stay angry. I want to hate them. For never standing up for me. For watching me break and pretending everything was fine. I want to hold onto that rage because it's the only thing that kept me alive back then."
Zoe brushed her hand through Stacy's hair, softly.
"But I can't," Stacy whispered, voice crumbling. "I can't stay angry. And I hate that. I hate that part of me still wants to forgive them. Still wants them to be the people they should've been."
Tears streamed freely down her face now, unrestrained.
Her voice cracked as she whispered, "Why, Zoe?"
She looked up, eyes searching Zoe's as if desperate for an answer the world had denied her.
"Why can't I stay mad at them? Why can't I just... hate them?"
She pressed a hand against her chest, like the ache lived there, deep and buried.
"It feels like I'm betraying myself, Zoe..."
Her voice fell to a whisper.
"Like I'm turning my back on the girl who had to survive all of that just to become me."
Zoe didn't try to fix it. Didn't offer platitudes or hollow comfort.
Instead, she pulled Stacy closer and whispered against her hair:
"You're not betraying yourself, baby. You're just finally letting yourself feel it."
Zoe's hand slid to the back of Stacy's neck, grounding her.
"That doesn't make you weak... it makes you real."
A tear slipped down Zoe's cheek—quiet, unannounced. She didn't wipe it away.
She just let it fall, like she owed Stacy her own breaking, too.
She pressed a kiss to Stacy's forehead, her lips lingering for a moment, and then pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.
Her fingers moved gently, brushing a tear from Stacy's cheek as her voice trembled with love.
"It's breaking you," she whispered, "because you never stopped loving them."
Stacy's lip quivered.
Zoe's eyes brimmed now, the weight of Stacy's pain cracking something open inside her.
Another tear slipped, catching at the corner of her mouth.
Zoe rested her head softly against Stacy's, their foreheads touching, breath mingling in the quiet between sobs.
"And that—" Zoe breathed, voice catching in her throat, "That is exactly what makes you the Stacy I fell in love with."
And in the quiet of that room—surrounded by shadows, secrets, and scars—there was nothing more to say.
Only held.
Only felt.