For a moment, I let myself fold.
Not collapse.
Fold.
He held me steady, chin resting lightly against the top of my head.
“It’s quiet in here,” I murmured.
“It can stay that way,” he said.
I pulled back slightly, searching his face.
“I didn’t ask you to sell anything,” I said.
“I know.”
“I won’t.”
He nodded.
“I didn’t resign for you,” I added.
His eyes flickered faintly. “I know.”
“I did it because I couldn’t stand in that room and let them define my choices.”
A pause.
“That’s why I love you,” he said.
The words were steady this time. Not rough with heat. Not edged with possession.
Clear.
I exhaled slowly.
“Thomas will paint this as instability,” I said. “Eleanor will spin it as a temporary step. The press will move on in a week.”
“And you?” he asked.
“I’ll build something else,” I said.
“What?”
“I don’t know yet.”
His mouth curved faintly. “Good.”
“Good?”
“You were never meant to be contained.”
Something in my chest loosened.
My phone buzzed again.
This time it was my mother.
