The relief hits hard. I reach her in three strides, hands immediately checking for injuries. My knees hit rock again, harder this time, definitely bleeding now. Her pulse is rapid but strong, no obvious breaks, scrapes from the rocks but nothing critical. She's hypothermic, lips tinged blue from the cold water, but breathing. Breathing.
"Found you," I breathe, the words coming out broken.
"Nico?" Not surprise. Like she knew I'd come.
She flinches when I reach for her.
"I'm here." I strip off my jacket, wrap it around her shaking form. "Jesus, Marisol, you jumped. You actually jumped."
"He was going to shoot me." Her teeth chatter so hard the words vibrate. "Stage a suicide. Said I'd become another Delgado tragedy." She pulls away slightly when I try to gather her closer,not much but enough to notice. "So I jumped first. Took away his ending."
"You haven't swum in eight years."
"I know."
She studies my face for a moment, deciding something. Then, finally, she allows herself to lean into my warmth. Her whole body shakes, from cold or memory or both.
I hold her tighter now that she's letting me, trying to transfer every degree of my body heat.
"I chose to live," she says against my chest. "Even after you looked at me like I was just another assignment."
Each word lands like a bullet I deserve. She's right about all of it.
She pulls back enough to look at me properly. Even soaked and freezing, even after nearly dying, she reads me like she always has. Past every wall, down to the terrified man underneath.
"You thought I was becoming Sofia." Not a question. "You saw me go tactical and cold and you panicked."
"Yes."
"Because you thought you were breaking me.”
“Like I broke her.”
“Like youthinkyou broke her."
The truth lands hard. My hands clench into fists, nails cutting into palms. "Yes. But I was wrong. So fucking wrong."
"You're an idiot," she says fondly. "I wasn't becoming Sofia. I was trying to be strong enough that you wouldn't have to save me all the time. I thought if I could handle things myself, maybe you'd stop seeing me as a burden."
The walls I built crumble completely. Every justification, every noble withdrawal designed to protect her. All of it wrong. She wasn't hardening into a weapon. She was trying to be worthy of staying. And I punished her for it.
"You were never a burden." The words come out desperate. "Never. You were… you are…"
"What? What am I to you?"
The words are right there. Three syllables that have been burning in my chest for days. But she deserves more than an adrenaline confession on dark rocks.
"Mine," I growl instead. "You're mine. That's all. That's everything."
She studies my face for a long moment. Still not completely letting me in, making me work for every inch of proximity. Then she speaks:
"I love you."
The words hit harder than the relief of finding her alive. She says them simply, clearly, despite everything I've done to not deserve them.
"I love you," she continues, "and I need you to know that. Not because I almost died. Because it's true. It's been true since you made me eggs and told me about playing Chopin."
I want to say it back. The words are right there, pressing against my teeth. But if I say them now, they'll sound like relief. Like gratitude for her survival instead of a choice.
