I stare at the rumpled sheets, at his bare forearm, at the faint shadow of exhaustion on his face.
“I hated you,” I whisper.
He closes his eyes briefly like he deserves it.
“I know.”
“And I still wanted you.”
His breath catches.
I look up at him.
“And I hated myself for that too.”
Julian’s voice is rough. “Don’t.”
The single word is gentle and fierce at the same time.
I swallow hard. “I’m scared.”
“I know,” he says again. “And you have every right to be.”
I stare at him for a long beat.
His throat moves.
He doesn’t reach.
He waits.
He understands that if he takes without permission, it breaks everything.
I inhale. Then I shift closer, closing the space between us, and I place my hand on his chest.
His heart is pounding too.
Fast.
Like mine.
“Look at me,” I whisper.
He does.
And for a second, everything in me melts.
Not because the pain is gone.
But because the honesty is finally here.
“I choose you,” I say.
Julian’s face crumples for a second like he can’t hold it.
Then he nods once, like a vow.
“I will spend the rest of my life earning that,” he says.
