She looks over her shoulder, just once. “And I don’t know which answer scares me more.”
Then she’s gone, heels clicking down the hall again, farther this time. Not a run. But not a stay either.
I stand there in the silence she leaves behind. Empty. Burning. Wrecked.
Two DaysLater
The documents sit untouched. I haven’t moved. It’s late in the day, and the sun’s beating down.
I should give her time. That’s what I said. That’s what a good man would do. But I’ve never claimed to be good.
I find her in the garden. She’s barefoot, pacing the stone path like it might lead her to clarity. Her arms are wrapped around her body. I wonder if she’s trying to hold herself together or hold something in.
I don’t speak. I just watch her. Let her feel my presence.
Eventually, she turns. Her eyes find mine like they always do. Like she can’t not look.
“I hate you,” she says softly. But there’s no venom, just grief.
I nod. “I know.”
“I want towantto leave you.”
My throat closes. “But you don’t.”
Her lip trembles. “No. I don’t.”
I take a careful step forward. “Then stay.”
Her breath hitches.
“But I don’t want you to stay because you’re scared of leaving,” I say. “I want you to stay because even after everything, you still see something worth choosing.”
She’s trembling now. But she doesn’t back away when I close the distance.
“You gave me the illusion of control,” she says, her voice fraying. “And then offered me freedom. Do you have any idea what thatdoesto a person?”
“I do,” I whisper. “Because that’s what you’ve done to me.”
Silence. And then her hands are on my chest again, fingers fisting in my shirt like she needs something to anchor herself. Her forehead presses to mine.
“I don’t forgive you yet,” she murmurs. “I don’t even trust you yet.”
“I don’t deserve it,” I whisper back.
“But I can’t stop wanting you. And I hate myself for it.”
I take her face in my hands—not to kiss her, but toseeher. All of her. The fury. The ache. The desire tangled with everything she’s terrified to admit out loud.
“You’re not weak for wanting me,” I tell her. “You’re strong for not letting it destroy you.”
Tears fall silently. She doesn’t wipe them.
“I need more time,” she says again, but she doesn’t pull away this time.
“I’ll wait,” I promise. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
“Even if I want to leave?”
