Song for the chapter: Can't Help falling in love
JON'S POV:
   I don’t know why I follow them at first. Maybe it’s instinct. Maybe it’s that sharp twist in my gut, the kind that only comes when she’s hurting.
   Arc runs like he’s chasing the last chance he’ll ever have. I run slower, watching from behind, heart already heavy.
Then I see them in the park.
   The sky weeps for her. Gentle at first, like it’s afraid to disturb her pain. But then the clouds crack open and the drizzle becomes a downpour. And she’s standing there, all fury and sorrow, a fire drowning in a storm.
I stop behind the trees and watch her break and it wrecks me.
    Her screams hit me harder than any blow I’ve ever taken. Not because she’s loud. But because she’s real. Raw. Every word she throws at Arc slices through me too like her pain is a storm and we’re all caught in the flood.
   I want to go to her.
I want to pull her away, hold her, tell her she’s safe. That she doesn’t have to carry this war on her shoulders. That she doesn’t have to face this alone.
But I don’t move.
   Because right now, this moment, it’s not mine to take. It’s hers and Arc’s.
   Even though I want to be anywhere but here watching it.
   Even though it feels like my heart is being peeled open with every step she takes away from us.
   Her voice rings out one last time, brutal and final.
 "I hate you! And I swear, I’ll kill him. Even if it’s the last thing I ever do."
   Arc doesn’t follow her. He just stands there, trembling, soaked to the bone, looking like someone ripped the soul out of him.
And still... still...he doesn’t cry out. He just lets her go.
That’s when I move.
*****
   I find her on the sidewalk a few blocks from the park. Her shoulders are hunched. Her hair sticks to her face like it’s trying to hide her from the world. She doesn’t notice me at first. Or maybe she does and just doesn’t care.
"Aurora."
She keeps walking.
"Aurora, wait."
She doesn’t.
   I jog to catch up, but the closer I get, the colder the air around her feels. Not from the rain. From her.
   "I said leave me alone," she snaps, not turning her head.
   "I’m not Arc," I say quietly, "but I’m not letting you walk home like this."
   "I don’t care." She stops walking just long enough to throw me a glare over her shoulder. "Why are you even here, Jon?"
  "Because I saw what happened back there. And I’m not letting you shut yourself off from everyone who cares."
   "You saw?" she scoffs. "Good. Then you saw me lose everything I thought I could trust."
   I step in front of her, hands up, trying to steady the air between us. "Aurora, please. Just talk to me. Let me help you. You don’t have to go through this alone."
She stops. Looks up at me.
And the look in her eyes... it isn’t just sadness. It’s betrayal. It's abandonment. It’s war.
   "You want to help?" she says, voice cutting like frost. "Then stop pretending any of this can be fixed."
I flinch.
"I’m not pretending," I whisper. "I just… I don’t want to lose you too."
   She laughs. Cold. Empty. "You didn’t lose me, Jon. You were never the one who broke me."
That stings more than I expect.
   She moves to walk around me, but I reach out gently, touching her arm. "Aurora...please."
She rips away like I burned her.
"Don’t touch me."
  Her voice is lower now. Calmer. And somehow, that hurts worse.
   "I just need space, okay?" she says. "I need air. I need to breathe without either of you around."
   My mouth opens. I want to argue. I want to tell her that I can be there for her like how I have I’ve always wanted to be. But something in her expression stops me.
   There’s no room for warmth there. No room for me.
So I nod, even though it kills me.
   "Okay," I murmur. "But I’m not going far. Just so you know."
   She doesn’t respond. Just turns and walks away, like I never said a word.
   I watch her disappear down the street, her silhouette swallowed by the rain and I stay there for a long time. Soaking. Silent.
Wishing I could follow.
Wishing I was enough.
Wishing the world hadn’t broken her before she even had a chance to be whole.
*****
   By the time I get back to the house, I’m soaked to the bone and shaking. But it’s not from the cold.
It’s from her silence. Her absence beside me.
   I don’t see her downstairs, and I don’t expect to. So I grab one of the heated food containers from the counter, spoon warm rice and stew into a bowl, and walk upstairs.
Her door’s closed.
Of course it is.
I knock. Quietly.
No answer.
   "Aurora…" My voice is barely a whisper. "It’s me."
Still nothing.
I wait a beat, then twist the handle. It’s not locked.
   She’s sitting on her bed. Knees drawn to her chest. Her clothes are still damp. She didn’t even change. Her hair’s tangled, clinging to her cheeks, and her eyes-
Her eyes are lifeless.
Like someone turned the lights out and never came back.
   I stand in the doorway, unsure if I should move closer.
She doesn’t look at me.
   "I brought food," I say gently, holding up the bowl like it means something. Like it could fix anything. She doesn’t respond but she doesn’t tell me to leave, either.
That’s something.
I close the door behind me and walk in slowly, sitting at the edge of her bed like I’ve done a hundred times before. It’s never felt this distant.
Never this… is wrong.
"I know you probably don’t feel like eating," I say softly, "but your body still needs something. Just a little."
She blinks.
That’s all.
I scoop up a small bite and offer it to her.
She hesitates.
Then opens her mouth. Silent. Robotic.
I feed her again. Another bite. And another.
Still no words. But then-
   A single tear rolls down her cheek. She blinks fast, as if trying to fight it. As if emotion is an enemy she has to beat but she’s losing.
Another tear falls.Then another.
   And suddenly, she’s crying, not loudly, not violently. Just… quietly. As if the sadness is slipping through the cracks no matter how tightly she’s tried to seal them shut.
   My chest feels tight. Like something inside me is caving in.
   I reach out and gently wipe her cheek with the back of my fingers.
"You’re okay," I whisper. "You don’t have to hide it."
   She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Just more tears.
 I feed her another spoonful even though her lips tremble.
   I wipe her tears again. Again. Over and over as they fall like a steady stream.
   "I’m here," I say, my voice cracking. "I’m not going anywhere."
   She lowers the bowl herself after a while, setting it on the nightstand with shaky hands. And then she breaks.
   Her face crumples. Her shoulders collapse inward. Her breath comes out in a jagged sob, and before I can think twice, I slide closer, wrap my arms around her, and pull her into me.
She doesn’t resist.
   She falls into my chest like she’s been waiting for someone to catch her all day.
She clutches my shirt in both fists, her sobs muffled against me, warm and trembling and real.
"I hate this," she cries. "I hate everything. Why did this happen to me, Jon? Why me? It's been one bomb after the other for two weeks. I don't have a break. I'm so tired."
   I hold her tighter, pressing my cheek to her hair.
   "I don’t know," I whisper. "But you don’t have to carry it alone."
She sobs harder.
   And I just stay there, rubbing slow circles into her back, letting her fall apart in my arms because someone has to.
  Someone has to hold her when the world doesn’t make sense anymore.
And I will. For as long as she needs me.
I’ll hold her forever.