It’s not said like an order.
It’s said like a belief.
Like he already expects me not to.
“You make that sound simple,” I murmur.
“It can be.”
“How?”
He steps closer again.
Close enough now that I can feel the warmth of him, the steadiness.
“By not doing it alone,” he says.
That word again.
Not alone.
It hits differently now.
Because now he knows what it means.
I study him for a long second.
Then—
“Okay,” I say.
Not automatic.
Not survival.
Choice.
His gaze softens slightly.
“Okay,” he repeats.
The silence that settles after that isn’t the one I grew up with.
It doesn’t press.
It doesn’t judge.
It doesn’t demand I shrink.
It just…
Exists.
And for the first time—
I don’t feel like I have to disappear inside it.
25
