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“I’m not trying to twist it,” he said. “I just—if you never stopped—then maybe we—”

“We’re not doing that,” I cut in, my voice sharper now. “There is no ‘we.’”

He went still.

“I meant what I said yesterday,” I continued. “I’m not interested in a relationship. Not with you. Not with anyone.”

“That’s because of me,” he said.

“That’s because of a lot of things,” I replied. “You were just the first.”

He winced.

“I built a life after you,” I said. “It’s not perfect. It’s messy and hard, and sometimes I feel like I’m barely holding it together, but it’s mine. And I’m not risking that again.”

“I’m not asking you to risk it,” he said. “I’m asking you to let me try to make it right.”

“You can’t make that right. You can’t take back all the years.”

“I can try,” he insisted. “I know I can’t undo what I did. But I’ll spend every day proving I’m not that person anymore.”

My heartbeat faltered at the desperation in his voice. It would have been so easy to fold. To let myself believe him. I forced myself to shake my head.

“That’s not love,” I said. “That’s guilt.”

“It’s not guilt,” he said, stepping closer again, his voice rough. “I have felt this for you every day since the day you left. Every day. You don’t just get over something like that, not when it was real. We were real, Cali.”

I looked away, back to the water, because I couldn’t hold his gaze and stay steady. “Real doesn’t always mean safe,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, softer now. “I know that’s not enough. I know it doesn’t fix anything. But I am. I am so damn sorry, Cali.”

I believed him, and that was the worst part. I believed every word, every crack in his voice, every unsteady breath. And it still didn’t change anything.

“I can’t do this again,” I said, barely above a whisper. “I can’t give someone the power to break me like that.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said immediately.

“You already did.” Maybe I sounded like the worst kind of person, but I was barely holding things together as it was, and the idea of risking my heart felt like rubbing sand into a fresh wound. That left him with nothing to say, and I almost felt bad for how sincere he seemed. Maybe he was a good person now. Maybe he really had changed. But that didn’t erase what happened, and it didn’t mean I owed him another chance.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The water lapped gently against the dock, the only sound filling the space between us.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said finally. “Not right away. Maybe never. But I’m not going anywhere.”

I let out a slow breath because I hadn’t expected that.

“That’s your choice,” I said. “But it doesn’t change mine.”

He nodded, even though it clearly cost him. “Can I at least . . .” He hesitated. “Can I at least be in your life? Even if it’s not like that?”

I closed my eyes for a second, weighing what it already cost me to have him in my life. “That depends,” I said, “on whether you can actually respect what I’m asking for.”

“I can,” he agreed. “Whatever you need.”

I turned to study ‌him one more time.

“Then you need to understand this isn’t a waiting game,” I said. “You don’t get to hang around hoping I’ll change my mind. If you stay, it’s as someone who expects nothing from me because that’s exactly what you’ll get.” The words found their mark, and I could see it.

But he swallowed and then nodded anyway. “Okay,” he said, his eyes searching mine. I studied him for a second, searching for any sign that he didn’t mean it. All I saw was someone who looked like he would agree to anything if it meant he didn’t have to let me go again. That scared me more than anything.