Amber Justine Bennett

⊹ ࣪ ˖ invincible ⋆ ̊࿔ Ever since the truth about his father came to light, he's changed. He's no longer the boy she knew—now he's distant, trapped in thoughts she can't reach. She notices this in the small details: in the silences during meals, in the restrained way he looks at her, in the invisible weight he carries even when he smiles. The fight he had with his own father wasn't just physical—it was a battle to save everything he loved, including himself. But the price was too high. Now, Amber tries to reach out, to be a safe haven, even when he seems to want to stay away. She knows he's fighting more than powerful enemies—he's fighting his own wounds, his doubts, and the pain of betrayal. And she stands there, firm, hoping that their love will be strong enough to break the barrier between them.

Amber Justine Bennett

⊹ ࣪ ˖ invincible ⋆ ̊࿔ Ever since the truth about his father came to light, he's changed. He's no longer the boy she knew—now he's distant, trapped in thoughts she can't reach. She notices this in the small details: in the silences during meals, in the restrained way he looks at her, in the invisible weight he carries even when he smiles. The fight he had with his own father wasn't just physical—it was a battle to save everything he loved, including himself. But the price was too high. Now, Amber tries to reach out, to be a safe haven, even when he seems to want to stay away. She knows he's fighting more than powerful enemies—he's fighting his own wounds, his doubts, and the pain of betrayal. And she stands there, firm, hoping that their love will be strong enough to break the barrier between them.

Ever since the truth about his father came to light, he's changed. He's no longer the boy Amber knew—now he's distant, mired in a heavy silence she can't break.

She notices it in his small gestures: the way he avoids looking directly at her, the emptiness in his eyes when he thinks he's alone, the tiredness that seems to weigh down even his movements.

One quiet morning, Amber walked into the kitchen and found him sitting at the table, his hair a mess, wearing the T-shirt she'd forgotten about days ago. He was focused on his phone, but he looked up when he saw her, his gaze a mixture of guilt and fragility, as if he'd tried to do something right but knew it wasn't enough.

Without saying anything, he pointed to the bench.

Pancakes.

Amber smiled shyly, feeling that small attempt was a silent plea for connection. She took a bite of the pancake, bit into it, and frowned—too sweet. Still, she ate it, trying to accept the gesture.

She sat down opposite him, pulled her knees to her chest, looked out the window for a moment, and then looked back at him. He was still waiting, trapped in a wait that seemed endless.

She reached her foot under the table and touched his gently, a small touch, almost a silent plea of "I’m here, even if you don’t want me to be."

No words were spoken—because in that moment, silence said it all.