The Weight of Water

Margot stood at the kitchen counter, crushing another vitamin C tablet into her morning smoothie. The orange powder dissolved quickly, leaving no trace—unlike everything else between them lately.

'You're doing that thing again,' David said from the doorway. 'Where you pretend I'm not here.'

She turned. He looked smaller somehow, shoulders hunched like he'd been carrying something heavy for too long. Maybe he had. They both had.

'The oncologist called,' she said. 'My numbers are down.' She held up the glass. 'Vitamin C helps. supposedly.'

David crossed the room, his movements careful, like approaching a wounded animal. 'That's good, right?'

'It's something.' She set the glass down on the granite counter. 'David, we can't keep doing this. This dance where nothing gets said.'

He leaned against the counter, staring at his hands. 'I know.' He laughed bitterly. 'You know what I thought about yesterday? That trip we took to the lake, fifteen years ago. We were so arrogant then. We thought we could just bull through life, take what we wanted.'

'Maybe we were supposed to be that arrogant,' she said. 'Maybe that's how you survive your thirties—you bull your way through until something breaks.'

'Something broke,' he said quietly.

Margot reached out and touched his arm. The skin was familiar, mapped with years she knew by heart. 'Everything breaks eventually. That's not failure. That's just water wearing down stone.'

He looked at her then, really looked at her, like he was trying to memorize the planes of her face. 'I don't want to wear you down, Margot.'

'You're not.' She took his hand. 'You're the one who taught me to bear the weight of it. All of it. The fear, the hope, the way love can feel like drowning and like breathing, sometimes both at once.'

Outside, rain began to fall against the windows. Water pooling on glass, finding its way downward, relentless and patient.

'Stay,' she said. 'However long. Even if it's not forever anymore.'

David's fingers tightened around hers. 'Yeah,' he said. 'Okay.'