Cracks in the Armor

Lia didn't show up the next day—or the day after that.

For two full days, Nate found his porch blissfully quiet. And yet, the stillness didn't feel the same as it used to. It wasn't the peace he once craved, but something else entirely: emptiness.

He hated to admit it, but he'd grown used to her presence, her lively chatter filling the gaps he never realized were there.

By the third day, curiosity got the better of him.

With his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, Nate walked the short path to Lia's house. The place looked livelier now, with flower pots lining the porch and a string of fairy lights wrapped around the railing. He hesitated for a moment before knocking.

There was a pause, followed by the sound of footsteps. When the door opened, Lia stood there, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail and dark circles under her eyes. She looked... off.

"Nate?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.

"Hey," he said awkwardly. "Just wanted to check if you were... okay. Haven't seen you around."

She blinked, then let out a small laugh. "Wow. Didn't think I'd live to see the day you came knocking on my door."

"Don't get used to it," he muttered, though his tone was light.

Lia stepped aside, motioning for him to come in. The inside of her house was warm and inviting, with mismatched furniture and a half-unpacked box of books in the corner. But there was an air of disarray, as if the house reflected her current mood.

"I'm fine," she said, flopping onto the couch and pulling a blanket around her shoulders. "Just a little under the weather."

Nate frowned. "You look exhausted."

She waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing. Probably just adjusting to the slower pace here. My body's used to running on adrenaline and bad coffee."

He leaned against the wall, watching her closely. "Is that all?"

Lia glanced at him, her smile faltering. For a moment, she seemed to debate whether to tell him the truth.

"I got a call from my old job," she admitted finally. "They want me to come back."

Nate's chest tightened at the thought. "And? Are you going?"

She shook her head, but there was uncertainty in her expression. "I don't know. Part of me misses it—the energy, the challenge. But the other part of me knows why I left. It was... toxic. I was burning out."

He nodded, understanding more than he cared to admit. "So why not stay here? You've got a fresh start."

Lia laughed softly, though there was little humor in it. "Yeah, but fresh starts are scary, you know? Starting over means figuring out who I am outside of everything I used to be. And honestly, I don't know if I'm ready for that."

Nate didn't reply immediately. Instead, he walked over to the bookshelf and picked up a small photo frame. It was of Lia and an older woman, both smiling broadly in what looked like a bustling city square.

"Your mom?" he asked, holding up the frame.

Lia's expression softened. "Yeah. She passed away a few years ago. She was my biggest cheerleader—always believed I could do anything."

"That's probably because you can," Nate said, his voice gentle.

Lia smiled, her eyes misty. "Thanks, Nate."

He set the frame down and turned to her. "Look, I'm not great at this stuff, but... staying doesn't mean you're giving up. It just means you're giving yourself a chance. And from what I can tell, you're the kind of person who deserves that."

For a moment, silence filled the room. Lia looked at him, her walls briefly crumbling as the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide came to the surface.

"Thanks," she whispered.

Nate nodded, shifting uncomfortably. "Alright, well, get some rest. And maybe eat something other than muffins for once."

Lia chuckled, the light returning to her eyes. "I'll consider it."

As Nate walked back to his house, he realized he didn't just miss Lia when she wasn't around—he worried about her.

And that was a dangerous realization.