Moonlight slipped past the heavy curtains, washing Eliana's bedroom in soft silver. The sheets were tangled around them, Rafael's arms still locked firmly around her like he was afraid she might vanish if he let go. He hadn't left after his confession, his breath warmed the side of her neck, steady and comforting, but heavy too—like the weight of his confession had pinned him to her side.
He didn't move. He just held her, his fingers brushing through her curls in slow, careful strokes, his lips close enough to whisper against her skin.
"You're more than I ever thought I deserved, Eliana," he said, voice low and rough, each word carrying a tremor of honesty that pressed against her chest. "You're clumsy and real and brutally honest. After all the lies, the pain, everything I've dragged myself through… having you here feels like a second chance. A breath of fresh air. And I swear, I'm not letting it slip away."
