The café was almost empty when Eli walked in.
The air smelled faintly of coffee and rain. The bell above the door jingled softly — a sound that made Riven look up from his untouched cup.
Their eyes met.
It had been only three days since they last saw each other, but it felt like months.
Eli took a slow step forward, his heart pounding harder with every inch that closed the space between them.
Riven's fingers tightened around his mug, knuckles white, like letting go would mean losing something more than porcelain.
Eli sat down without a word.
Silence stretched between them, thick and unyielding.
"I didn't… know if you'd come," Riven said finally, voice low, almost swallowed by the quiet.
"I almost didn't," Eli admitted. "But then I realized… if I didn't come now, I might never."
Riven looked down, swallowing hard. "Eli—"
"No. Let me speak first." Eli's voice wavered, not from anger, but from the ache lodged deep in his chest.
"I don't want us to keep pretending that everything's fine when it's not. You push people away before they can hurt you, Riven. But I'm not people. I'm me. And I'm here because I chose to be."
Riven's breath hitched. He wanted to answer, but his throat felt tight, like it had forgotten how to form words.
"I can't promise I'll never upset you. I can't promise I'll never make mistakes. But I can promise I'll fight for you every time you start believing you're not worth it."
Eli's voice cracked on the last word.
That was what finally broke Riven.
Without thinking, he reached across the table, catching Eli's trembling hands in his own. His grip was desperate, almost pleading.
"I'm scared," Riven whispered. "I'm scared that one day, you'll wake up and realize you could've had someone easier. Someone who doesn't overthink every look, every word. Someone who doesn't make it this… hard."
Eli's eyes softened, and he leaned in just enough for his words to land between them like a vow.
"I don't want easier, Riven. I want you."
It was such a simple truth, yet it shattered the last wall Riven had been holding up.
For the first time in days, they both breathed without the weight of unspoken words pressing on their chests.
The rain began again outside, soft against the glass — but inside, the storm had finally eased.
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