But it’s there.
“I will always come for you,” I tell her.
And I mean it.
I always have.
She leans into me more, her head resting against my shoulder, and for a second—
Just one—
I let myself feel it.
The weight of what almost happened.
The line we almost crossed.
The version of this where I didn’t get to her in time.
No.
I shut it down.
Not now.
Not here.
She needs me to be steady.
So that’s what I give her.
“You’re okay,” I say again, my hand moving slowly over her back, grounding her.
“You’re safe.”
Her grip tightens.
“They were watching me,” she whispers.
My body stills.
Just slightly.
“Who?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she says. “They didn’t talk. They just… stood there sometimes.”
A beat.
“Like they were waiting.”
Of course they were.
Waiting for a reaction.
Waiting for a break.
Waiting for me.
