The last words trembled out of her, hoarse and aching.
“And I can't—I don't know how to survive it and feel it at the same time.”
Her voice broke completely; she reached for her pieces as they fell, but Alaric was there before she could bend for them. Her breath shortened. Shallow, panicked. Like her lungs had forgotten how to expand.
A sound escaped her throat. Not quite a sob, not quite a gasp. She slapped both hands over her mouth, trying to trap it, to will it away. Her vision blurred at the edges.
No. Not now. Not like this.
Her body didn’t listen. Her body never listened. It remembered too much.
And then, there was him.
“Evelyne,” Alaric said gently.
She blinked, startled by the way her name felt in his voice. Steady. Deep. Kind in a way that didn’t pity her. She forced her gaze to rise, and there he was—close but not crowding, his tall frame tense with concern, his brown eyes wide and warm and wholly focused on her.
“I’m here,” he said. “Look at me.”
She did. Her breath was still a mess, her hands still trembling where they pressed against her lips, but she looked.
“Breathe in for four. Come on. One... two... three... four.”
She followed the rhythm like a lifeline. His voice pulled her back from the cliff, one syllable at a time.
“Good. Again.”
Her shoulders eased by a fraction.
He watched her for a moment longer, then spoke again, this time slower.
“Sometimes when your body forgets it’s safe, touch can help. Pressure.” His jaw flexed, as if weighing each word before giving it breath. “Can I touch you?”
The question wasn’t casual. It held the weight of real choice.
Evelyne nodded. Just once. It felt enormous.
His arms slowly wrapped around her. For a long, frozen moment, Evelyne hovered at the edge of herself, caught between instinct and exhaustion. Every part of her screamed to pull away. But her body knew what her mind refused to admit.
So it leaned.
Her forehead brushed against the hollow of his throat, and she felt, almost with wonder, the solid reality of him. The warmth of skin, the faint trace of his scent, something clean and steadying, edged faintly with sea and sun.
“Stop…” It came out cracked, brittle down the center. “Don’t care for me. Care for someone whole.”
She blinked hard, shoulders trembling, arms caught halfway between pulling him closer and pushing him away. But Alaric didn’t flinch. Slowly, his hand rose, settling at the back of her head, steady and warm. The other remained at the small of her back, where his fingers tapped a quiet, grounding rhythm.
“You’re not some crumbled statue, Evie,” he said, voice low. “You’re the only truth I’ve ever wanted to believe in without question.”
He tipped his forehead lightly toward hers, pausing there.
“And this?” His thumb brushed behind her ear. “This is the most human I’ve ever seen you. And the most beautiful.”
She tried to turn away.
“Don’t hide it,” he breathed. “Your emotions… they’re what make you a masterpiece.”
Her hands, useless things, curled against the sides of his shirt.
