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His voice barely reaches me now.
Not sound.
Weight.
Gravity.
Truth.
“Nothing you say will change that.”
I almost believe him.
God help me—
I almost let myself fall into it.
Hope is a drug.
And I’ve been sober too long.
I close my eyes.
Promise myself I won’t touch—
And still, my hand rises.
Slow.Unsteady.
I lay my palm against the steel again.
Cold.
Merciless.
But it’s him.
A silent, shaking I’m here.
A breath later—
His hand meets mine through iron and stone.
No doubt.No hesitation.
Our palms align as if the wall is nothing.
Like this place doesn’t own us anymore.
“I want to trust you,” I whisper.
It sounds like surrender.
“And I want you to trust me.”
“I do.”
Immediate.
