It held the weight of Colin’s guilt. The depth of his love. And the desperate hope that somehow, they would find their way back to each other.
Joshua sank into the nearest chair, buried his face in his hands, and wept.
For the ache of loneliness. For the life they’d lost. For the love that still held him together.
And for the flicker of a future he would never, ever stop believing in.
He swiped his arm across his face, then lifted his phone and typed his response.
Colin stared at the screen.
The heart he’d just sent glowed back at him—so small. So stupid. So inadequate.
He had almost deleted it. Had almost thrown the phone across the room.
But instead, he’d hit ‘Send’. And now it was out there. Tohim.
He set the phone down on the nightstand like it might detonate and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight. His breath came shallow, uneven.
Why was this so hard? It was just a heart. Just a shape.
But to him, it was everything. The only way he could say what his own heart screamed with every beat:
I still love you.
I’m still here.
Please, Josh. God, please don’t give up on me.
Joshua’s ringtone sounded. The screen lit up.
I’m yours, my yedid. Always yours. Forever yours.
Colin stared at the words, and for a moment, he didn’t move.
Then he lowered the phone slowly, as if the weight of it had doubled in his hand.
He sat down—hard—on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the floor, phone still glowing in his hand.
He hadn’t expected it. Hadn’t realized how much he needed it.
Not reassurance. Not permission.
But to be someone’s forever. To behisforever.
His shoulders curled forward, arms wrapped tight around his middle like he was trying to keep something inside from breaking loose.
His breath hitched. And then the tears came—shaking sobs, soft and silent, tears sliding soundlessly to the floor.
He didn’t wipe them away.
Didn’t need to.
They weren’t embarrassing.
They were… release.
He was still wanted. Still chosen. Stillloved.
