THE WAY WE BREAK || cobra kai

Tessa's footsteps were slow as she moved past the living room, then past her bedroom. Her fingers ran along the wall for balance she didn't really need.

She stopped just outside Robby's door, the quiet so heavy it pressed down on her chest like a weight she hadn't expected, like the hallway itself was holding its breath, waiting to see if she'd step forward or turn away.

The door was slightly open. Just like it used to be—just like he'd always left it, in case she needed him.

She used to barge in without thinking, throw herself onto the bed beside him, legs tangled over his, one of his earbuds already in her ear before he could protest. It had been easy then—effortless.

Now, it felt like a line she wasn't sure she could cross. The door was still open. But she didn't know if it was meant for her anymore.

She stood there, quietly, arms crossed tightly over her chest like she could physically hold back the ache building in her ribs. Her eyes stayed fixed on that sliver of space between the door and the frame—so small, and yet it felt impossibly wide. Like all the distance between them had gathered there, waiting to be acknowledged.

Tess didn't know if she was standing there to gather the courage to walk in—or to remind herself that she still could.

She stood still for a beat, then nudged the door open with the side of her hand. Robby was stretched out on his bed, headphones over his ears, arms folded behind his head.

The soft creak of the door snapped him out of it. His head snapped up, startled, and he sat up fast, like he wasn't sure if he was imagining her. "Tess?" His voice broke with disbelief. "You okay?"

She stood frozen in the doorway, like her body had carried her this far and then abandoned her, unsure what to do next. Her arms hung by her sides, heavy and useless, fingers twitching like they were searching for something—anything—to hold onto. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, as though even breathing hurt.

"I..." Her voice barely made it past her lips. The moment she looked at Robby, her eyes filled with tears. "Do you remember when we were little..." Her voice cracked, shaking under the weight of the memory. "And one of Mom's boyfriends was yelling and throwing stuff... so we locked ourselves in the bathroom?" The words spilled out, shaky and fractured, as if they had been trapped in her head for years.

Robby's eyes softened right away, the tension in his jaw loosening as the memory washed over him. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I remember."

She stared at the floor, her eyes glistening with a storm of hurt—betrayal, grief, and something raw and broken beneath it all. "You gave me a blanket and pillow... made me sleep in the tub," she whispered, each word trembling with pain as tears spilled down her cheeks. Her voice cracked, fragile and ragged. "You were the only thing in this world that ever felt safe." Her breath hitched, ragged and uneven, as if the words themselves were tearing her apart. She met his tear-filled eyes, the unbearable ache inside her shattering open. "And then... you just left."

Her body shook with raw, desperate sobs, tears pouring freely down her face. Without a second thought, Robby rose and closed the small distance between them, wrapping his arms around her shaking form. He pulled her close, his chest pressing against her face as he buried his nose into the top of her hair, holding her as if he could shield her from every hurt she'd ever known.

Tessa held him tightly, as if she was afraid he might leave again, her whole body trembling. "I hate you," she whispered, the words muffled. "And I love you. And I missed you so much it made me sick."

Robby's hands cradled the back of her head, holding her like she was something fragile. "I'm sorry," he whispered, over and over. "I'm so sorry."

Later that evening, Tessa stood between Robby and Sam, her hands fidgeting at her sides as her eyes followed Mr. LaRusso. He was silent, taking in the familiarity of Miyagi-Do—the bonsai trees, the clean wooden picture frames on the walls, the place that had once felt like his sanctuary. Now, he looked lost in it.