The sun had long set, casting the house in a soft glow from the dim kitchen lights. The smell of tinolang native chicken and garlic rice wafted through the air, but Erica remained cocooned in her room. The soft click of her door lock felt like a barricade between her and the whirlwind of emotions inside her. She couldn't stop thinking about Sam and Andrea, about how easily they'd laughed together, how natural it had seemed.

Why does it bother me so much? she thought, her hands gripping the pillow tightly. I trust him... don't I? Then why do I feel like I'm being left behind?

Sam stood outside her door again, his knuckles lightly tapping on the wood. "Erica?" he called, his voice softer this time. "Aunt Nena says it's dinnertime. You should eat something."

For a moment, there was no response, and Sam began to worry. Is she still mad? Or worse, hurt? What am I missing? He sighed, his hand lingering against the doorframe as he debated knocking again. Just as he raised his hand, the door creaked open, and Erica stepped out. Her face was pale, her eyes slightly red as if she'd been crying, but her chin was held high.

"Finally," Sam said, attempting to ease the tension with a smile. He tried to meet her eyes, but her gaze was cold, distant - a wall he couldn't see past. His smile faltered. She's not just upset. She's hurt.

"You should invite Andrea too," Erica said flatly as she brushed past him. "She might be hungry." Her tone was even, almost detached, but the weight of her words hit him like a punch to the gut.

Sam blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Erica - " he began, but she was already heading toward the dining room, her shoulders stiff with unspoken frustration. He watched her retreating form, his chest tightening. I didn't realize how much I'd hurt her. I need to make this right, but how?

*****

The dining table was set with Aunt Nena's usual care: a steaming platter of chicken, and small bowls of vegetables. But the warmth that usually accompanied their meals was absent. Erica sat stiffly in her chair, her gaze focused on her plate. Sam sat across from her, his movements slow and hesitant, as if walking on eggshells. Aunt Nena, perched at the head of the table, glanced between the two with a knowing look.

The meal passed in tense silence. The clinking of silverware against plates was the only sound, punctuated by the occasional throat-clearing from Aunt Nena, who clearly sensed the unspoken conflict. Erica barely touched her food, her fork moving absently across the plate. I can't even look at him right now. If I do, I'll just picture her. I'll see that stupid, carefree smile he gave her. The one he never gives me.

Sam, on the other hand, was struggling to focus on eating. She won't even look at me. How do I fix this? What do I say to make her understand? His grip on his fork tightened. I've never seen her this distant before. Is she... doubting me?

When dinner ended, Erica rose from her seat without a word and moved toward the kitchen. She grabbed the broom from the corner and began sweeping the floor, her motions deliberate, her back to Sam. Her movements were sharp, each stroke of the broom brimming with tension she couldn't voice. Why does this hurt so much? Why does it feel like I'm losing him when he's right here?

Sam followed her, leaning against the counter as he watched her. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, but he couldn't bear the silence anymore. The words he'd been holding back all evening finally spilled out.

"Erica," he started softly, his voice tentative. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

Erica's hands tightened around the broom handle. Her sweeping slowed for a moment, as if his words had struck a chord, but then she resumed, each motion harsher than before. She didn't turn to face him. "Why don't you ask Andrea?" she said coldly, her voice trembling slightly. "She seems to have all your attention these days."

Sam winced, the frustration and pain in her words cutting into him. Is this what's been eating at her all day? Andrea?

"Erica," he said, stepping closer, trying to keep his tone calm and measured. "Andrea is just a friend. You know that. She's from my past, but that's all she is."

Erica stopped sweeping but kept her back to him, her shoulders stiff and unmoving. Her silence spoke louder than any words. Then, without turning, she said, her voice edged with bitterness, "Oh really? Friends? Or friends with benefits? You know, Sam, your smile and actions don't exactly agree with what you're saying."

She paused, her tone softening into something raw and vulnerable. "Why does it feel like she has a part of you I never will? Why does it seem so easy for her to get your attention?" Finally, her voice dropped to a whisper. "Why does it feel like you're slipping away when you're with her?"

Sam's chest tightened at the vulnerability in her voice. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. What is she talking about? She's just jumping to conclusions. I was just happy to see my friend. He took a calming breath, steadying himself. Okay, Sam, just understand her. Don't push. She needs you to listen.

He moved in front of her, gently taking the broom from her hands and setting it aside. She stiffened but didn't resist. "Erica, look at me," he said softly.

When she didn't, he reached out, his fingers lightly brushing her chin as he tilted her face upward. Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, met his.

"I'm not slipping away," he said firmly, his voice steady but gentle. "You're the one I care about. You're the one I want to be with."

"But you're so... at ease with her," Erica said, her voice cracking, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "You smile at her like - like she's still important to you."

Sam's eyes softened as he stepped closer. "She's not important to me the way you are, Erica," he said, his tone steady, his gaze unwavering. How can I make her see that there's no comparison? That she's everything to me?

Erica's heart wavered at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the fog of doubt. But the ache was still there, stubborn and persistent. I don't want to feel like this. I hate feeling so insecure, but I can't help it. I don't want to lose him, but what if I'm not enough?

"I don't want to feel like this," she admitted quietly, her voice trembling. "But I do. And I don't know how to make it go away."

Sam gently cupped her face, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks. He leaned in closer, his voice soft but resolute. "You don't have to figure it out alone," he said. "I'll be here. We'll work through this together, okay? I'll do whatever it takes to show you that you don't have to doubt me."

For a moment, the weight of her feelings threatened to overwhelm her. But looking into his eyes, Erica felt something shift.

His sincerity was undeniable, and it wrapped around her like a protective shield against her insecurities. Slowly, she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Okay."

For the first time that night, Erica felt the tension in her chest begin to ease. She leaned slightly into his touch, her eyes searching his for reassurance. "I don't want to lose you," she whispered.

"You won't," Sam replied without hesitation. "You mean too much to me, Erica. I'll make sure you never feel like this again."

A tentative smile tugged at the corners of Erica's lips, and she nodded slowly. "Okay," she said softly. "I'll try."

Sam smiled back, his relief evident. He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "That's all I ask."

In the quiet kitchen, surrounded by the remnants of their shared meal, the distance between them began to shrink. It wasn't a perfect resolution, but it was a step forward. And for now, that was enough.

*****

The night had settled in with a peaceful stillness, the only sound being the soft rustling of leaves in the trees. Sam sat outside on the porch steps, a warm cup of coffee in his hands, the steam rising into the cool night air. The stars above sparkled like tiny diamonds scattered across a dark velvet sky. His guitar rested beside him, forgotten for the moment as he looked up at the sky, lost in thought.

The melody he'd been humming faded as his mind wandered. His thoughts were full of Erica. How she had pulled away from him at dinner, the hurt in her eyes when she wouldn't look at him. I hate seeing her like that. I should have handled things better with Andrea. But I didn't realize how much it was affecting her. He sighed deeply, the weight of guilt pressing down on him. I wish I could've seen it sooner. I want to fix this. I can't lose her.

Inside the house, Erica lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was dark, save for the faint light from the moon streaming in through the window. What is wrong with me? Why did I let jealousy take over like that? Sam's always been there for me, and I know he'd never betray me. So why am I acting like this? Her fingers twisted the edge of the blanket as her thoughts spiraled.

The sound of Sam's guitar playing softly drifted in from outside, each note like a soothing balm to her anxious mind. She closed her eyes, letting his voice fill the space around her. There was something so familiar and comforting about it. It was the same sound that had calmed her in moments of doubt before. I've been so stupid. Why can't I just trust him? She tossed the covers off and got out of bed, quietly slipping on her cardigan.

Sam's voice, now humming a low tune, reached her ears as she stepped outside. She paused for a moment, standing at the edge of the porch. He sat there, guitar in hand, staring up at the sky as if searching for answers. She couldn't help but watch him for a moment, the way the moonlight cast soft shadows on his face, making him look even more distant and lost than usual.

He looks so alone, she thought, her chest tightening. I've been pushing him away. He must feel just as lost as I do.

After a beat, she moved forward, her steps light but hesitant. Sam looked up as she approached, his eyes brightening with a mix of surprise and relief. "You're still up?" His voice was soft, the smile on his face genuine but cautious.

She gave a small shrug, unsure of what to say. "Couldn't sleep. Guess... I had a lot on my mind, too." She stopped beside him, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest.

Sam patted the step next to him, offering her a place beside him. She hesitated for a moment before sitting down. The cold night air nipped at her skin, but it wasn't the chill she felt in that moment. It was the distance between them, the invisible wall that had formed. She could feel it between them, thick and suffocating.

They sat in silence for a long while, neither knowing where to begin. I've hurt him, Erica thought, her fingers nervously twisting in her lap. How do I fix this? How do I apologize for making him feel like he was losing me?

Finally, she broke the silence, her voice small and unsure. "I owe you an apology, Sam," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "For how I acted. I let my jealousy get the best of me, and it wasn't fair to you."

Sam looked at her, his face softening. His voice was steady as he replied, "It's okay, Erica. I get it. I probably should've been more upfront with you. Maybe I should've introduced you to Andrea sooner."

She shook her head, feeling the sting of her own emotions rise. "It wasn't about that. Not really." She paused, trying to gather the right words. "I saw you with her, and I... I felt like I was losing you. Even though deep down, I know you'd never betray me like that. I just... I couldn't help it."

Sam's gaze softened, and he gently reached for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers in a quiet gesture of comfort. "You're not losing me, Erica," he said, his voice low but firm. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. You have to trust that. You have to trust me."

His words settled around her, but the insecurity still gnawed at her. Why is it so hard to believe him sometimes? Why does it feel like I'm always on the edge of losing him?

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but the weight of her feelings still lingered. She let out a shaky breath. "It's just hard sometimes. Loving you like this makes me feel vulnerable in ways I've never felt before."

Sam nodded, his hand still gently holding hers. "I get that. I really do. It's hard for me too. I may not show it the same way, but you mean more to me than I can say. I don't know what I'd do without you, Erica."

Erica felt the tension in her chest ease a little at his words, but she still couldn't shake the fear in the back of her mind. Thank you for saying that. But is it really true? Is he really as committed to me as I am to him?

"Thank you, Sam. For being so patient with me, for not walking away." Her voice broke slightly, and she looked down, ashamed of her earlier behavior. "I've been so difficult."

Sam's fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender. "You're not difficult, Erica. You're human. And we're both learning. We'll get through this. Together."

The sincerity in his voice made something inside her shift, and she looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were full of warmth, reassurance, and something else - something that made her heart swell. He really means it. He really cares.

She smiled, a little uncertain but relieved. "I don't know how I got so lost in my own head. I should've just trusted you more."

Sam smiled back, his thumb brushing over her hand. "You're learning, and so am I. We're in this together, Erica. I'll always be here for you, even when it gets hard."

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder. For a moment, they just sat there, the quiet of the night surrounding them. The stars above seemed to shine brighter, almost as if they were watching over them, reminding them that things would be okay.

After a long pause, Erica broke the silence again, her voice soft and teasing. "So... you couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Sam chuckled, a low sound that made her heart feel lighter. "Not with everything going on. I guess I was hoping the stars would help clear my head. But I think I just needed to talk to you."

Erica laughed lightly, the sound filling the air with warmth. "Maybe they have," she said, glancing up at the stars. "Maybe they've cleared both of our heads."

They sat there for a while, the tension from earlier finally melting away. The night felt peaceful now, as if the storm that had raged between them had passed. Under the starlit sky, surrounded by the quiet of the world around them, Erica felt something new - something fragile but real. Maybe we've found our way back to each other. Maybe we're stronger now.

She leaned closer, resting her head against Sam's shoulder again. For once, I'm not scared of the future. I'm not scared of losing him.