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“I could say the same to you.”
“Yeah.”
A beat.
Neither of us moves.
Not yet.
Because this—
This is the part after.
After the fight.
After the adrenaline.
After everything that kept us moving.
Now there’s nothing left—
Except what’s between us.
“You did good,” I say quietly.
That gets her.
She turns then, her eyes finding mine.
“Wedid,” she corrects.
A small shift.
But it matters.
I take a step closer.
Then another.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Giving her space to meet me or stop me.
She doesn’t stop me.
“You felt it before it happened,” I say.
“I didn’t stop it.”
“No,” I agree. “You adapted.”
A beat.
“You always do.”
Something in her expression softens.
