It was late, the kind of late where everything in the world seemed to slow down, the edges of the day softening into night. The sky was an endless sea of stars, each one flickering faintly in the vast blackness, as though they were speaking a language only the quiet could understand. The air was cool against his skin, a crisp breeze carrying the hum of crickets from the nearby fields. Sam sat beneath the old tree just outside the house, its gnarled branches twisting in the darkness, his headphones pressed against his ears. The music played softly, but the rhythm of it did nothing to calm the thoughts racing through his mind.
He was restless. His mind, full of things he couldn't quite process, refused to let him relax. Every now and then, his thoughts turned toward Erica, and the way she had come into his life and made everything more complicated. In some ways, it was a relief, because life had been empty without her in it. But now, with everything happening between them - her family, his own doubts - he found himself tangled in feelings he didn't know how to express.
Pulling out his notebook, he flipped to a fresh page. His fingers hovered over the paper for a moment before the words began to spill out, as though they had been waiting for the right moment to emerge.
I need to get this out, Sam thought, taking a deep breath, steadying his shaking hand. I have to say it.
His pen moved slowly at first, as if testing the waters.
"To Erica," he wrote, before pausing to take a breath. He stared at the words for a moment, wondering if he could ever truly convey what he felt. This is ridiculous, he thought briefly. I shouldn't even be doing this. But I can't stop myself.
"I don't know how to explain this," he continued. "But I have to try. Since you walked into my life, nothing has been the same. You've made everything brighter, even the hard parts. I didn't expect to feel this way, but now I can't imagine my life without you in it."
The words hit him harder than he anticipated. They were raw - honest in a way he hadn't been before. The honesty felt both liberating and terrifying. He looked at the words, wondering if she'd ever believe him.
Does she even know how much she means to me? he wondered, his stomach tight. Does she know how much I need her here?
He didn't know how much time had passed when he wrote the next part. The night felt both slow and fast at once, the music in his ears now nothing more than background noise.
"You challenge me in ways I never expected," Sam wrote. "The way you see the world - your fire, your strength, your independence - it all makes me want to be better. I never thought someone like you would be in my life, and I'm not sure how to handle it, but I know this: I'm willing to fight for us. No matter what happens, I'll always be here."
Sam paused again. The words were out there, on paper, but they still felt like something he couldn't fully own. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready to lay his feelings bare like this, but every time he thought about Erica, his heart just wanted to spill over with everything he couldn't say out loud.
It feels so heavy, he thought, folding the paper carefully and tucking it into his jacket pocket. This letter... it's not ready. I'm not ready.
Before he could reflect any longer, a phone began to ring, slicing through the stillness. Sam froze, his heart dropping into his stomach as the unmistakable sound of Erica's ringtone echoed from the house. He didn't need to hear the words. He knew who was on the other end of the line.
Her father, Sam thought grimly. Here we go again.
He felt his chest tighten, a familiar knot forming in the pit of his stomach. He had never liked the tension that hung over Erica whenever her family's name was mentioned. He knew how much it weighed on her, how it dug into the core of who she was.
Sam shook his head, trying to focus on something - anything - other than the conversation he couldn't hear but already knew would be a storm. It was her father again. His voice, cold and demanding, no doubt trying to assert control over her life from a distance. The man never understood. Never would.
Sam sighed deeply, and for a moment, he considered stepping inside, seeing if Erica needed him. But something stopped him. I can't just barge in, he reasoned. She needs space. She needs time to process whatever it is she's hearing from him.
Instead, Sam pulled his knees up to his chest, closing his eyes and trying to will the noise from inside the house out of his mind. The crickets' song seemed to grow louder in contrast to his thoughts, the music still faint in his ears. He wanted to think about the letter, wanted to think about telling Erica everything he was feeling. But his mind kept wandering back to her father, to the way he controlled her, manipulated her, even from far away.
He thought of Erica, sitting in that cold, distant room, her eyes probably filled with the same exhaustion and frustration he had seen so many times before. He couldn't bear the thought of her feeling alone in this. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to shield her from all the things that hurt her, and yet, he felt helpless.
Eventually, the phone call ended, and the house fell silent once more. Sam stood up, his legs stiff from sitting for so long. He didn't know what he was expecting, but the weight in his chest didn't lessen as he made his way to the door.
The moment he stepped inside, everything felt different. The air in the house was thick with something unsaid, something heavy. Erica was sitting by the window, her body turned slightly away from him. Her gaze was distant, lost in thoughts he couldn't reach. He could tell she was trying to keep it together, but her posture - her shoulders hunched and her hands clenched - said everything he needed to know.
Sam's chest tightened, his heart pulling him toward her, but he hesitated. He wanted to help, to take her in his arms and tell her it would be okay, but he wasn't sure how.
"What happened?" he asked softly, his voice low, like he was afraid of disturbing the fragile peace between them.
Erica turned slowly, her eyes flickering with something that Sam couldn't place. She took a long breath, but when she spoke, her voice was flat, emotionless. "It's about my family," she said, her words sounding too weary, too resigned.
Sam's stomach twisted. He didn't need her to say more. He could see the strain in her eyes, the weight of what she was carrying. She wasn't just struggling with the call; she was struggling with the constant pressure of expectations that had nothing to do with her, but everything to do with the family name.
Sam could feel the words pressing against his chest, the letter in his pocket seeming to burn a hole into him. He wanted to hand it to her right then, to show her what he felt. But it didn't feel like the right time. Not now, when her family had just made her feel small again.
Instead, he stepped closer and placed a glass of water on the table next to her. He didn't say anything, didn't try to offer some grand solution. He simply gave her the space to breathe. Maybe this is enough, he thought. Just being here. Just staying quiet.
Her hands trembled as she picked up the glass, but she didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Sam didn't push her to talk, didn't ask her to explain the pain she was clearly carrying. He just sat with her. Together but apart, trying to share the weight of the silence.
His heart still ached, but he understood. She wasn't ready to talk, and neither was he. But that didn't mean he couldn't be there. Tomorrow, Sam thought, maybe tomorrow I'll have the courage to tell her everything I'm feeling. Maybe then.
For tonight, the quiet was enough. And maybe that was all either of them needed.
*****
The cool night air caressed Erica's skin as she accepted the glass of water from Sam. She held it tightly in her hands, letting the chill seep into her palms, as if grounding herself. The liquid slid down her throat, soothing her nerves, but the heaviness in her chest lingered, stubborn and unyielding. Her father's voice still echoed in her mind, his words sharp and commanding, laced with a tone that made her feel small. He always speaks as if I'm an object, something to control, to bend to his will. I'm not a child anymore, but he doesn't see it.
Sam sat beside her on the soft grass by the riverbank, just far enough to give her space but close enough that she could feel his presence. His gaze was fixed on her, his concern evident. The river flowed quietly beside them, the gentle current reflecting the moonlight. The sounds of nature - the rustling of the trees, the chirping of crickets, and the occasional whisper of the breeze - surrounded them, creating a peaceful cocoon. Yet Erica's mind was far from peaceful.
I don't want him to know what's going on in my head. I don't want Sam to think I might leave him. I can't let him think that. But how do I even begin to explain what's happening?
Sam shifted slightly, his elbow resting on his knee as he watched her closely. His voice broke the silence, soft but steady. "You sure you're alright?"
The question was simple, but it carried so much weight. Erica looked at him, her heart tugging in two directions. Part of her wanted to spill everything, to let him share the burden that felt too heavy to bear alone. But another part of her - the part shaped by years of pride and independence - held back. If I tell him, he might think I'm still tied to them. He might think I'm going to leave, that I'm not choosing him. The thought alone made her chest tighten.
She forced a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes, and took a deep breath. "It's just... a lot," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "My father - he's upset. But it's not what you think." Her words trailed off as she stared down at the glass in her hands.
Sam tilted his head, studying her. She could feel his eyes on her, reading between the lines she hadn't spoken aloud. He didn't push, but his silence invited her to continue. When she didn't, he reached out and gently took her hand, his touch warm and steady.
"Whatever it is, I'm here for you," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "You don't have to go through this alone."
His words struck something deep within her. She looked at their joined hands, his calloused fingers enveloping hers, and felt a flicker of warmth in her chest. But the warmth was quickly overshadowed by doubt. Does he really mean that? How can he say that when he doesn't know the full story? If I tell him about my father, about how relentless he is, will he still want to stand by me?
Erica leaned her head against Sam's shoulder, her eyes closing briefly as she tried to quiet the storm in her mind. The steady sound of the river beside them helped, its flow reminding her that life moved forward, even when she felt stuck. She wanted to believe that Sam's presence could be enough to anchor her, but the doubts lingered, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts.
After a long silence, Sam spoke again, his voice softer this time. "You don't have to tell me everything right now," he said. "But... I hope you know I'm not going anywhere."
Erica's heart skipped a beat, her eyes snapping open at his words. She turned to look at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but all she saw was sincerity. Does he really believe that? Does he understand how much I need him right now? Or how scared I am that one day, all of this might be too much for him?
She hesitated, her words caught in her throat. "Sam..." she started, but she didn't know how to finish. She wanted to thank him, to reassure him, but her emotions felt too tangled.
Sam seemed to sense her struggle. He leaned closer, his eyes locking with hers, and for a moment, everything else faded away - the doubts, the fears, even the echo of her father's voice. All she could see was him, steady and unwavering, like the moonlight reflecting on the river.
He reached up, gently cupping her chin, tilting her face toward his. "Erica," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I mean it. I'm here. No matter what."
The vulnerability in his voice broke down the last of her defenses. She felt a lump rise in her throat as her eyes filled with unshed tears. He doesn't know everything, and he's still here. How does he do that? How does he make me feel safe even when everything feels like it's falling apart?
Before she could respond, Sam closed the distance between them, his lips brushing against hers in a slow, tender kiss. The world seemed to stand still in that moment. The worries that had been weighing her down melted away, replaced by the warmth of his touch. His kiss wasn't just an expression of love - it was a promise, a reassurance that she wasn't alone in this, no matter how heavy the burden.
When they pulled apart, Erica rested her forehead against his, her eyes closed as she tried to steady her breathing. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "For being here. For... everything."
Sam smiled, his hand moving to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he said simply, his words carrying a weight that made her heart ache in the best way.
They sat there for a while longer, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Erica rested her head on Sam's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The doubts in her mind hadn't disappeared entirely, but they felt quieter now, overshadowed by the comfort of his presence.
As she gazed up at the stars, she felt a renewed sense of determination. I won't let my father dictate my life anymore. I won't let him take this away from me - from us. Sam is my choice, and I'm not going anywhere.
Sam's arms tightened around her slightly, as if sensing the shift in her thoughts. "You're quiet," he said softly, his voice laced with curiosity.
Erica smiled faintly, her eyes still on the stars. "I was just thinking," she said. "About how different everything feels now. Being here with you... it's like the world finally makes sense."
Sam chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. "Well, that makes one of us. Half the time, I don't know what I'm doing. But... being with you? That's the one thing I'm sure about."
His words sent a warmth through her chest, and she tilted her head to look up at him. "You're sure?" she teased lightly, though her voice carried an undertone of vulnerability.
Sam looked down at her, his expression serious. "Yeah," he said firmly. "I'm sure. And I'll remind you of that as many times as you need me to."
Erica felt her throat tighten again, but this time it wasn't from doubt - it was from the overwhelming gratitude she felt for him. He doesn't just say the words. He means them.
Under the moonlight, with the river whispering beside them and the stars shining overhead, Erica knew one thing for certain: no matter what challenges lay ahead, she and Sam would face them together.