Page 132 of Scars and Crowns

Not there. Here. With Yuvaan.

I cling to that. By the time we reach the doors, my knees are barely cooperating. The cool night air hits my face, and I suck in a breath so sharply it hurts. My legs give way. Yuvaan catches me before I can fall. One arm wraps around my waist, the other steadying my shoulder, holding me upright while I fight for another breath. Then another.

The night is quiet outside compared to the ballroom. I can hear the faint rush of cars along the driveway, the soft movement of trees, the muffled music still spilling through the closed doors behind us.

It should feel peaceful. It doesn't. My entire body is still waiting for something terrible to happen.

Yuvaan doesn't let go. He doesn't tell me to calm down. He doesn't ask me what that man did. He simply keeps one hand against my back and waits. "That's it," he murmurs. "Take your time."

I squeeze my eyes shut. A tear slips free.

"I saw him." The words come out so quietly I'm not sure he hears them.

His hand stills against my back. He is watching me. Not demanding. Not judging. Just there.

And somehow that makes another tear fall. "I thought . . . " My voice catches. "I thought I'd never see him again."

Yuvaan's jaw tightens. I see it. The tiny shift. The restraint. But he doesn't push. He only pulls me closer until my forehead rests against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear. One beat. Then another. Something I can count. Something real. I close my eyes and breathe him in, letting the familiar scent of his cologne and the warmth of his shirt pull me back into the present.

Five years.

Five years of avoiding that face.

Five years of pretending that if I never said his name, never spoke about that night, never let anyone see how badly it still hurt, then maybe it would eventually stop belonging to me.

And now he is here. Standing in the same room as me. Laughing. Living. As though he didn't leave a part of me terrified of being touched by certain memories for the rest of my life.

My fingers twist into Yuvaan's jacket. "I'm sorry."

His hand moves slowly over my hair. "Don't."

"I ruined tonight."

"You didn't ruin anything."

"The gala—"

"Can wait."

I lift my head. His expression is impossibly calm. "The gala can wait, Daisy." Something in me breaks a little at that.

Because he means it. He doesn't care about the guests still inside. He doesn't care about the council. He doesn't care about the event that took months to organize.

Right now, he cares that I'm standing here shaking in his arms.

"You don't have to tell me anything tonight," he says quietly. "Not until you want to."

My lips tremble. "And if I never—"

"Then you never do."

I stare at him. He brushes his thumb beneath my eye, catching the tear before it reaches my cheek. "But whoever that man is," he says, his voice quieter now, "he doesn't get to take tonight from you either."

My breath catches. He presses his forehead gently against mine. "You're here." I close my eyes. "You're safe." Another breath. "And I'm not going anywhere."

For the first time since I saw that face, I manage to breathe without it hurting.

Behind us, the ballroom continues exactly as it was. Music. Laughter. Glasses clinking. People talking about things that suddenly feel impossibly small. But out here, beneath the cool night sky, none of it matters.