“Then I’ll leave you alone,” he says immediately. “Take out the camera. For good.”
That should make this easy. I’ll just tell him to go away.
Instead, I do something stupid.
“Thirty minutes,” I say. “I’ll come up. I’ll look and then I’ll decide.”
Relief doesn’t soften him. Itsharpenshim.
“Good,” he says. “That’s enough.” Damian walks over and scoops up Mr. Wiggles from where he was sound asleep on the couch.
“What are you doing with my cat?” My hands find my hips.
“Ourcat,” he corrects. “Just meet us upstairs. Mr. Wiggles and I have a surprise for you.”
Then he’s gone, taking my sleepy cat with him.
I sit down on the couch with a thump and wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
Hannah
Exactly thirty minutes later, I push open the heavy metal door that leads to the roof of our building.
I’d like to say I spent those thirty minutes debating, arguing with myself over whether I should really be here, whether giving Damian a chance was reckless or brave, but that would be a lie. The moment he left, I already knew I was coming.
What I wrestled with wasn’t him.
It wasme.
What didIwant?
What did I envision formyfuture?
Damian had been living a sheltered half-life, using me as his only human connection. But the truth settles in slowly, uncomfortably.
I wasn’t so different.
I kept my world small on purpose. Swore off men. Swore off love. Told myself it was self-protection instead of fear.
Damian did the same thing.
Just louder. With locks.
He built walls you can see—steel and concrete and doors that never opened.
I built mine where no one could reach them.
Inside myself.
But isolation is isolation, no matter how you dress it up. Physical or emotional, it starves you all the same.
And what had it given us?
Nothing.
I wasn’t happy.
Neither was he.
