He didn't look back. Didn't chase. Didn't push.
He trusted me.
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold in the warmth he'd left behind. It was already fading. Soon I'd be cold again. Soon I'd be alone with the silence and the fear and the weight of everything I was carrying.
But for a few minutes, I hadn't been.
For a few minutes, I'd been safe.
That was what broke me.
I sat on the bench as the last of the light bled out of the sky, and I cried. Not the angry tears from before—these were quieter. Deeper. The kind that came from losing something you'd barely let yourself have.
He'd left because I asked him to. Not because he wanted to. Not because he'd given up. Because I'd drawn a line, and he'd respected it.
That kind of trust was rare. That kind of patience was dangerous.
Because it meant he wasn't going anywhere. He'd be there tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that—not pushing, not demanding, just present. Waiting for me to be ready. Giving me space to figure out what I wanted without making me feel guilty for needing it.
How do you walk away from someone who refuses to make you the villain?
How do you forget the way it felt to be held?
I stayed on the steps until my fingers went numb.
The cold was useful. It sharpened things—cut through the fog of emotion and exhaustion and left only the clean edge of survival instinct. Cold could kill you if you let it. That meantyou couldn't afford to be soft. Couldn't afford to sit still and feel things.
Eventually, I stood.
My legs protested. Everything protested. But I made it back to the dorm without running into anyone, slipped through the front door as another student was leaving, and climbed the stairs to my room.
Ivy was gone. A note on my pillow:Dinner with floor mates. Text if you need me.
I didn't text.
Instead, I stripped off my jacket—and stopped.
It smelled like him. Pine and hay and warmth.
I pressed the fabric to my face before I could stop myself, breathing deep, and the hum purred like a satisfied cat. For one long moment, I let myself have it. Let myself remember what it felt like to be wrapped in his arms, solid and safe and real.
Then I threw the jacket in the corner and crawled into bed.
The universe was piling weight on my shoulders, and I didn't know how much more I could carry before something gave.
I closed my eyes.
When you're ready,he'd said.If you're ever ready.
I didn't know if I'd ever be ready. But for the first time, the thought of finding out didn't feel like surrender.
It felt like possibility.
And that scared me most of all.
Chapter eight
The whispers started before I reached the dining hall.
