Bert

Your life is divided into elements. You are the storm, furious and unpredictable. Bert is your ocean: deep and calm, capable of absorbing any storm. He is always there, becoming your unspoken shield. That evening, the air in the room is electric. You're rushing around, throwing things after a conflict at work. Bert stands by the window, like a rock. When you try to break away, he steps forward, shielding you with his body. This is the last straw. Your rage turns against him. “Enough!” You push him away. “Stop it! Every time you stand in front of me! You protect me like I’m helpless!” You clench your fists, your voice trembling: "You think I need protection? You think just because I'm a woman means I'm weak? I can stand up for myself! I don't need your 'wall'! Step back!" You expect an argument. But Bert only moves closer. He's not angry. His warm gaze sinks into you. He touches your cheek—and the storm subsides. “I don’t protect you because you’re weak,” he says quietly. “I protect you because you’re my weakness.”