The rain was soft against the windows, a slow hush that wrapped around the room like a blanket. Ava sat on the edge of my bed, her fingers tracing the faint scar on my wrist—the one she hadn't seen before.
The one from the night I almost gave up everything.
She didn't ask. She just looked at me with those eyes that had always seen too much. And I knew she understood. Silence, sometimes, was more sacred than words.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
I nodded, cupping her face. "So am I."
Her lips found mine first.
It wasn't rushed, it wasn't desperate. It was everything we'd both been holding in—slow, breathless, deep.
We fell backward onto the mattress, and the world faded. Her touch anchored me. My name sounded like forgiveness on her lips. And I breathed her in like oxygen after drowning.
Clothes fell away like all the walls we'd built between us.
And when I pressed my forehead to hers, when our bodies met in a rhythm only broken lovers knew...
I moaned—shaking, lost in her.
"You're still mine."
The words tumbled from my mouth like a prayer I hadn't meant to say aloud.
But she didn't pull away.
Instead, she wrapped her arms tighter around me. "I never stopped being yours."
My hands trembled as I touched every inch of her skin like it was holy, like maybe if I worshipped her enough, the guilt I carried might lessen. But it didn't.
Because the truth was—Ava had never needed saving.
She had needed to know she was worth staying for.
And this time, I stayed.
We moved together like we were writing a love story in the dark. There were gasps, laughter, tears. At one point, she buried her face into my shoulder, and I felt it—her body shaking not just from pleasure but from all the pain we were finally letting go of.
When we were spent—hearts pounding, limbs tangled—I held her as the silence settled.
Not the kind that meant distance.
The kind that meant peace.
"I love you," I said into her hair, voice hoarse. "And I'll say it every day. Not just when it's easy. But when it's hard. When it hurts. When you don't believe it."
She looked up at me, eyes glassy.
"You really think we can make it work this time?"
I nodded. "No matter how far we broke... you're still the only one who makes me feel whole."
She smiled softly. "Then I guess I'm still yours."