“I’m not asking you to be perfect,” I whisper. “I’m just asking you to stay. To fight. With me. For me. This is worth it. This is so worth it.”
His eyes close, our hands locked together, his heart beating faster. And for a long, aching moment, neither of us says a word.
We just hold on.
Like fragile things.
I press my forehead to his. “We can do this. We were meant to do this.”
His breath stutters. One shaky inhale, then another. And when his eyes finally open, they’re glassy, but clearer somehow. He’s resurfacing.
He doesn’t speak. But his grip tightens a little as he leans in.
And then, carefully, like he’s scared I might break or scream or run—
He kisses me.
Soft. Barely there.
But it says everything.
That he’s still here. That he wants to be.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine again, and we just breathe. New life, new purpose, new dreams.
And maybe tomorrow will be hard. Maybe the next day will be worse.
But right now, in this fragile, trembling moment…
I believe in us.
This isn’t the end.
It’s not over.
This will never be over.
***
Sunlight pours in from the hotel window.
My lashes flutter, eyes chafed and burning. Lids swollen. It takes a moment for reality to kick in, for my brain to rehash memories from the night before.
Chase.
A sad smile creeps across my lips as I dig my face into the pillow and sigh. My mouth is dry, limbs heavy. But I feel lighter somehow, because we made it through the worst of the storm.
I reach for him instinctively.
But my hand lands on a pile of cool sheets.
I blink fully awake, head snapping to the side.
The bed beside me is empty. Cold.
Panic lurches in my chest as I sit up too fast, the room spinning. “Chase?”
Silence.
