I swallowed hard.
What was I supposed to say?
That I didn’t know how to fit him into the version of myself I’d been holding onto? That I didn’t know how to untangle the man who scared me from the one who saw me?
The rain kept falling. The sound filled every crack I’d tried to seal.
“About us,” I said finally. “And how quickly everything changes.”
He exhaled slowly, like he’d been bracing for that. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You’re not scared of me anymore?”
I paused.
Not because I didn’t know the answer—but because I did.
“No,” I said softly. “I’m scared of what happens if I let myself feel too much.”
That wasn’t the same.
It was worse.
Thunder rolled in the distance as we pulled into the driveway, headlights splashing across the front of the house. The world outside was dark and wet and waiting.
And so was I.
Because something had shifted between us—and I wasn’t sure if we were about to fall into it… or drown.
The moment we pulled into the driveway, the sky cracked wide open.
Rain fell in sheets—loud and merciless, like the storm had been waiting for this exact moment to collapse.
Hades reached for the door handle, calm and practiced like always, ready to open it for me. Ready to usher me out of the car the same way he’d ushered me into this world—quiet control wrapped in gentleness I didn’t ask for.
But not this time.
This time, I didn’t wait for him.
I shoved the door open and stepped into the storm.
The rain hit me like a wall—cold, wild, unforgiving. Within seconds, my clothes were drenched, clinging to my body like second skin. My hair stuck to my cheeks. My breath caught in my throat. My arms prickled with goosebumps.
But I didn’t flinch.
This wasn’t about discomfort.
This was about choice.
About the ache in my chest, about the silence in the car, about the kiss still lingering on my lips and the thousand unspoken things caught between us.
I lifted my face to the sky, letting the rain wash over me like absolution. Like punishment. Like freedom. I didn’t know which it was—maybe it was all three.
Behind me, the car door shut. Quiet. Final.
I didn’t turn to look.
I didn’t need to.
He was there—I felt him. Moving toward me through the curtain of rain, heavy footsteps slicing through water-slick pavement. The air between us shifted, thick with electricity, with tension, with a kind of hunger that didn’t need words to be understood.
