That night, Eriko sat alone by the window, staring out at the city lights in silence. The weight of the news had left her numb—yet beneath the numbness simmered a deep frustration, almost despair. She had turned to Baudelaire’s *Les Fleurs du Mal*, flipping through pages as if searching for a kindred spirit, someone who could validate her disillusionment with a world that seemed so far from reason, justice, and compassion.
But even Baudelaire, with his piercing insights and darkly beautiful lamentations, couldn’t soothe her this time. She tried Mallarmé, his fragmented symbols offering glimpses of beauty amid the chaos, but they felt too abstract, too detached from her raw frustration. Her world of words and ideas felt fragile, crumbling like paper beneath the harsh reality that had taken root outside.
Sammi had been watching from the doorway, noticing the faint furrow in Eriko’s brow, the way her hands trembled ever so slightly as she gripped the book. Sensing her distress, Sammi stepped quietly into the room, crossing over to sit beside her partner.
“Hey,” she whispered gently, reaching out to place a warm hand on Eriko’s shoulder. “Talk to me?”
Eriko looked up, her expression a mixture of anguish and resignation. “I just… I don’t understand, Sammi. How can a country—how can *so many people*—choose… this?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she feared her words would dissipate in the silence. “I thought… I thought there was more progress, more compassion.”
Sammi sighed, letting her hand slip down to hold Eriko’s, squeezing it gently. “I know. It’s hard to understand how people can see things so differently. I think a lot of people are struggling with this right now.”
Eriko looked away, her voice thick with emotion. “I thought… maybe Baudelaire, Mallarmé, all the poets I’ve turned to—they see through the world’s cruelty and ignorance, maybe they’d give me a framework to understand this. But it just feels… hollow. This isn’t an abstract frustration. It’s real, and it hurts.”
Sammi leaned closer, wrapping her arms around Eriko, pulling her into an embrace. “You don’t have to understand it all, Eriko,” she murmured softly. “Sometimes the world just doesn’t make sense. But you don’t have to carry it all alone.”
Eriko let herself melt into Sammi’s embrace, closing her eyes as she rested her head against her partner’s shoulder. For a long moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in silence, Sammi’s presence grounding her, offering a warmth no words could convey. Slowly, she felt the tension in her body release, the helpless anger easing as Sammi held her close.
“Thank you,” Eriko whispered, her voice barely audible. “You always make me feel… like I’m safe, even when everything else feels overwhelming.”
Sammi gently brushed a strand of hair from Eriko’s face, looking at her with a soft, steady gaze. “You *are* safe with me. We’ll get through this together. No matter what happens out there, we’ve got each other. And we’ll keep building a life together—one filled with love and compassion, even if the world seems to forget it.”
Eriko nodded, her heart swelling with gratitude. She took a deep breath, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst her disillusionment. “Maybe that’s all we need… even if it feels small compared to everything else.”
Sammi smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “It’s more than enough. And we’re not alone, Eriko. There are others who feel the same way. We’ll find them, build something better together, piece by piece.”
Eriko let herself sink further into Sammi’s warmth, her heart finding solace not in the dark poetry she so often leaned on but in the love and resilience they shared. Here, in Sammi’s arms, she found a quiet, undeniable strength—a strength rooted not in understanding, but in choosing to love despite the darkness.
As they held each other, the city lights continued to glow outside, indifferent to their quiet defiance, but Eriko didn’t care. Together, they would weather whatever storms came their way, anchored by the one certainty that nothing could shake: they had each other, and in this, they would find enough.
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