Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
The silence stretches between us again, thick and heavy. I don’t know if she’ll push me away or if she’ll finally let me in. Her guard is still up, but I see the cracks in her armor. The part of her that wants to believe me. The part of her that’s terrified to.
She exhales a shaky breath and finally meets my gaze. “I don’t know how to do this,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent so long pushing people away, keeping myself safe. I don’t know how to trust you.”
Her words cut deep, but I don’t move. I let her speak because I know this is hard for her. She’s been hurt—hell, we’ve both been hurt—but this moment is about more than just me. It’s about her and what she needs to heal.
“I can’t promise I won’t mess up,” I say softly, taking another step closer. “But I can promise you this: I’m not going anywhere. I’m not giving up on us.”
She hesitates, her eyes searching mine, and for a moment, I think she’s going to pull away. But then, slowly, she uncrosses her arms. It’s a small gesture, but it feels like a breakthrough. A sign that maybe, just maybe, she’s ready to take the first step.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “But I want to try.”
It’s all I need to hear.
I close the distance between us, my hand gently brushing her arm. She doesn’t pull away this time, and the warmth of her skin against mine sends a wave of relief through me. There’s still a long road ahead, but for the first time, I feel like we’re standing on the same side of it. Together.
“Then we’ll try,” I murmur, my voice low, filled with a promise. “Together.”
She looks up at me, her eyes softening, and in that moment, I know we’ve crossed a line. The walls between us are still there, but they’re crumbling. And this—us—is just the beginning.
Chapter Fifteen
Sophia
Standing here, with Alex’s gaze locked on mine, I feel the walls I’ve built for years threatening to crumble. My chest tightens, fear winding through me, but it’s not the fear of danger or the chaos we’ve just survived. No, this fear is something deeper, more intimate. It’s the fear of being hurt again—of opening myself up to someone and losing control. Every part of me wants to retreat, to push him away like I’ve always done.
But then I look at him—really look at him. His expression is open, raw. He’s standing there, not just waiting for me to make a decision, but trusting me with the power to hurt him. I see the strength in his vulnerability, in the way he’s willing to bare himself after everything we’ve been through. It’s different. He’s different.
The voice in my head, the one that’s kept me safe all these years, keeps reminding me of all the times I’ve trusted someone only to be betrayed. It gnaws at me, reminding me of every painful memory. My instinct is to shut him out, to pull back and fortify the walls I’ve carefully crafted. But as I stand here, with Alex’s eyes never leaving mine, something inside me shifts.
If I keep hiding behind these walls, I’m not just keeping Alex out—I’m keeping myself locked in. I’m suffocating in my own fear, trapped by the trauma of my past. And if I don’t let go, if I don’t allow myself to feel, I’ll lose more than just him. I’ll lose the chance to be free, to truly live.
I take a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs as I push through the fear that grips me. It’s not easy. It feels like stepping off the edge of a cliff, like freefalling into something unknown. But I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired of running.
My heart races as I step closer to him, my pulse loud in my ears. I feel his gaze follow every movement, the air between us thick with tension, but not the kind that makes me want to run. This time, it pulls me in. Closer.
“I’ve been scared for so long,” I admit, my voice quiet but strong. The words feel heavy, weighted with years of fear and pain I’ve never spoken aloud. But I’m done hiding. I’m done being the version of myself that’s always running. “But I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want to lose everything because I was too afraid to let someone in.”
I can see the way my words hit him. His eyes soften, and for the first time, I see a flicker of relief. I reach out, my hand trembling slightly as I place it on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my palm. It’s strong and it anchors me in this moment.