A love that Weathers time.

CHAPTER 2: The Midnight Storm

The rain came first, a soft, relentless patter against the living room window that eventually grew into a heavy downpour. By midnight, the city outside was a blurred collage of neon lights bleeding into wet asphalt. Inside, the apartment was dark, save for the single amber glow of the floor lamp beside the couch where Mae sat curled up, a knit blanket pulled tight around her shoulders.

On the coffee table, her phone lay silent.

She had sent a text at 10:00 PM: Just checking in. Hope the dinner is going well.

There had been no reply.

At 11:30 PM, she had called, only for it to ring out and slip into the cold, automated clip of his voicemail.

Now, as the clock slowly ticked past 1:30 AM, Mae felt a sickening cocktail of anxiety and exhaustion twisting in her gut. In the past, she would have assumed his phone died, or that he was trapped in a meeting with a talkative boss. But lately, the silence felt deliberate. It felt like a wall Shanly was actively building between them, brick by brick, hour by hour.

Every quiet creak of the building made her stiffen, hoping to hear the rattle of keys at the door. When the lock finally turned at nearly 2:15 AM, the relief that flooded her was instantly replaced by a sharp, defensive edge.

The door swung open. Shanly stumbled slightly as he stepped inside, his hand catching the doorframe to steady himself.

He didn't look like the polished, professional young man who had left the apartment that morning. His tie was completely gone, his collar was crumpled, and his hair was wildly disheveled. As he walked into the dim light of the living room, a heavy wave of stale cigarette smoke, expensive cologne, and cheap gin washed over the space.

Mae stood up, the blanket slipping off her shoulders onto the couch. "Shanly?"

He blinked at her, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. A slow, slightly mock-defensive sigh escaped his lips. "Mae. Why are you... why are you still awake? You should be in bed."

His voice was thick, his words slurring slightly around the edges.

"Do you know what time it is?" Mae asked, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. "It’s after two in the morning. I've been calling you. I was worried sick."

Shanly waved a dismissive hand, kicking his shoes off into the corner. One of them hit the baseboard with a loud crack that made Mae flinch. "I told you I was going to a lounge. With clients. It’s business, Mae. I was doing business."

"At a club? At two in the morning?" Mae took a step closer, the smell of alcohol on him making her stomach turn. "Shanly, you’re drunk. You didn't even have the decency to text me back and let me know you were safe."

"I was busy!" Shanly snapped, his voice suddenly sharp, cutting through the quiet of the apartment like a blade. He rubbed his face with his hands, his irritation visibly flaring. "I was working. I don't need to check in with you like I’m a teenager with a curfew."

The comparison stung. It was a direct, ugly jab at their past—at the high school years when they used to text each other secretly past midnight.

"I'm not asking for a curfew, Shanly!" Mae's voice rose, the tears she had been holding back all night finally hot in her eyes. "I'm asking for basic respect! We are married. I am your wife, not some stranger waiting for you to stumble home from a bar. Why are you doing this? Why are you pulling away from me?"

"I’m not pulling away!" Shanly roared.

The volume of his voice shattered the room. In seven years, through every petty argument about chores or busy schedules, Shanly had never shouted at her. Not once. He had always been the calm one, the anchor. Hearing him yell was like watching a stranger take over his body.

Mae froze, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes widening in genuine shock.

But Shanly was too drunk, too exhausted, and too suffocated by his own internal pressure to stop. The resentment that had been bubbling under his skin for months finally boiled over.

"I am working myself to the bone for this life!" he shouted, gesturing wildly around their modern, decorated apartment. "I am out there every day, smiling at people I hate, drinking until I’m sick, just to make sure we can pay for all of this! And I come home, exhausted, just wanting to breathe, and you’re standing here waiting to interrogate me! You’re suffocating me, Mae! Every single day, you’re just... waiting. Waiting for me to be the boy from high school. Well, I’m not him anymore! I can’t be him!"

"Shanly, please..." Mae whispered, a tear finally spilling over her cheek. She reached a hand out toward him, her heart breaking at the sheer venom in his words. "That's not fair."

"No, what’s not fair is having to carry the weight of your happiness on my shoulders!" he yelled back, stepping away from her touch as if it burned him. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to feel like a prisoner in my own home!"

The word hung in the air, heavy and devastating.

Prisoner.

Mae’s hand dropped to her side. The apartment fell into a dead, horrifying silence, save for the sound of Shanly’s heavy, ragged breathing. He stared at her, his chest heaving, the anger in his eyes slowly mixing with a sudden, dull realization of what he had just said.

But the alcohol kept him from apologizing. It kept his pride erect, stiffening his spine.

Mae looked at him, truly looked at him, and felt a cold, hollow emptiness open up in her chest. The boy who used to protect her from every storm had just become the storm itself.

"A prisoner," Mae whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain outside. "Is that what I am to you? An obligation?"

Shanly didn't answer. He couldn't. Instead, he let out a low, bitter mutter, shook his head, and turned on his heel. He walked down the hallway, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him.

The sound of the door closing echoed through the empty apartment.

Mae stood alone in the dark living room, the cold rain continuing to beat against the glass. She slowly sank down onto the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, and let the quiet, agonizing tears finally fall.