She nods like she believes me.
And when I finally let go, when my body shudders and my breath turns rough, I don’t feel numb afterward.
I feel… present.
I stay inside her for a beat, breathing hard, and Sarah’s hands move through my hair, slow and soothing.
Neither of us speaks.
We don’t need to.
When I pull back and settle beside her, she curls into me immediately, her cheek against my chest, her hand splayed over my heart like she’s checking that I’m still here.
I cover her hand with mine.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say quietly, because I need to say it.
Sarah exhales, long and shaky, and I feel her body soften like she finally lets herself rest.
This is what it means to reclaim control.
Not by shutting down. By staying present enough to be held. By choosing the future even when the past is still bleeding at the edges.
Not about escape.
About grounding. About choosing touch over numbness.
When my breathing finally evens out and her fingers trace lazy patterns against my chest, I stare at the ceiling and feel something settle.
Not certainty or closure. But direction.
For the first time in a long time, I’m not reacting to the life in front of me.
I’m choosing it.
Not because it’s easy or because it erases what was taken. But because I refuse to let someone else’s fear keep writing my future.
I choose honesty over comfort.
And I choose Sarah, not as a replacement for anything I lost, but as the truth that waited patiently while I figured out how to see it.
Not perfect. Not healed.
But real.
I meet her eyes, my thumb brushing her jaw, and finally let the words out.
“I love you and I’ve always known it could only be you.”
The End
Epilogue
The Future
Jace
6 Months Later
