Here is the expanded version at approximately 1,200 words:
My tears came without warning, streaming down my face before I could do anything about them. Marcus didn't say a word. He simply lifted his arms and pulled me in, holding me steady against his chest with the quiet certainty of someone who had decided that was enough and didn't need it to be anything more. "No matter what," he said quietly, "you will always have a place in the sun."
I nodded and cried harder, letting all of it out at once — the grief and the exhaustion and the months of holding myself carefully together. When I finally pulled back, I saw the damage on his expensive suit jacket, a wet and thoroughly embarrassing mess of tears and everything else. I stared at it for a moment, then laughed despite myself, the sound coming out rough and slightly incredulous.
"Your jacket," I said.
He sighed with great patience and reached into his pocket, producing a tissue. "Clean up your own mess."
