Aaron stands on the porch, staring into the dark like he’s still holding the line between order and chaos.
“You’re allowed to stop,” I tell him.
He turns slightly.
“Not good at it.”
“I know,” I say softly. “Come here anyway.”
He hesitates.
Just for a second.
Like this might still be something fragile.
Something temporary.
Then he comes to me.
Slowly.
I place my hands on his chest.
Feel his heartbeat.
Strong.
Steady.
Real.
“You’re here,” I whisper. “We made it.”
His hands come up, framing my face, grounding me the same way I ground him.
“Say that again.”
“We made it.”
This time—
he kisses me.
Not careful.
Not restrained.
But not rushed either.
It’s everything we don’t hold back.
Everything we survived.
Everything we chose.
And for once—
there’s no interruption waiting.
