He covered her hand with his own, solid and grounding. “I’m right here.”
Arden spoke into the hush,her voice low.
“And you?” she murmured, eyes fixed somewhere near his shoulder. “What are you carrying?”
His expression shifted. Shadows moved across his face like storm clouds gathering.
He didn’t speak right away. Not out of reluctance, but with the care of someone who’d learned the cost of truth.
“The weight of a family who sees worth as a transaction,” he said finally. His voice was low, rough around the edges. “Who only keep you close when there’s something to gain.”
Something sharp tugged in her chest. Not pity. Recognition. “That sounds lonely.”
“It is,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
His thumb brushed hers as he let go. Slowed for a second, then moved on.
“But it doesn’t have to stay that way.”
The moment held. Quiet. Honest.
And in it, she saw something familiar: not just pain, but persistence. The kind of resilience that doesn’t need to shout to be real.
She reached out slowly, fingers brushing against his, more instinct than decision.
The silence between them wasn’t empty.
It felt full.
With his hand in hers, doubt slid in beneath the warmth.
What if I’m wrong?
That one question cracked the door.
Others slipped through in its wake.
What if I’m not seeing everything?
What if hope is just another kind of lie?
She swallowed hard. The past pressed close, sharp as broken glass.
And then softer this time, fragile but defiant.
What if I’m not wrong?
What if I jump and it feels like flying?
What if he’s the one who catches me?
Gideon’s touch moved across her hand, slow and sure, as if he could read every silent war she was fighting. As if he were holding the line with her.
When he spoke, his voice was a quiet anchor. “I’m staying right here.” No doubt. No flinch.
And for once, she didn’t doubt it. Didn’t armor against it.
She just… believed.
