“I didn’t break,” I add, like I need that to be clear.
“I know that too.”
“And you’re not going to treat me like I did.”
“No.”
“Or like I’m fragile.”
“No.”
I search his face.
“You already knew that,” I say slowly.
“I did.”
“How?”
His gaze doesn’t waver.
“Because you were still fighting when I found you.”
That settles something deep inside me.
Something that’s been braced tight since the moment I was taken.
I let out a slow breath.
The first real one.
“You stayed,” I say again, softer now.
“I told you I would.”
“You could have left,” I point out. “Delegated. Let someone else—”
“I wasn’t going to do that.”
“Why?”
There it is.
The question.
The one that matters.
He doesn’t answer right away.
And I don’t push.
I just watch him.
Wait.
The same way he does.
Finally—
