He pulls back and studies me one more time.
“If he messes up—”
“He won’t,” I say.
He nods once.
Then he leaves the room so abruptly it’s almost theatrical.
The door closes.
Silence settles.
It’s just us now.
Gabriel doesn’t move for a second.
“That went better than expected,” I say.
“Did it?”
I turn toward him.
“You didn’t hesitate,” he says quietly.
“I didn’t.”
He studies me like he’s memorizing something.
“Thank you,” he says.
“For what?”
“For standing your ground, not making me fight for it in there, and for everything.”
“We’re not doing this for applause,” I remind him.
“I know.”
“And we’re not doing it because it’s dramatic.”
“That's for sure.”
“And we’re not pretending this is some epic love story.”
A corner of his mouth lifts.
“Not yet,” he says.
I roll my eyes as my heart skips about three beats.
But I feel it.
That shift.
It’s not panic anymore.
It’s momentum.
