The clock ticked softly in the silence of Amara's apartment. Each second stretched into eternity as she waited, her heart pounding against her ribs like a drum that refused to quiet.
Then—three gentle knocks.
Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled as she walked toward the door. She could almost feel him on the other side—his warmth, his presence.
When she opened it, there he was. Adrian.
His hair was tousled from the night air, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, but the moment they landed on her, the raw relief in them nearly undid her. He looked at her like a man starved, like he had been holding his breath for days and could finally exhale.
"Amara," he whispered, her name breaking from his lips like a prayer.
Her throat tightened. For a long moment, neither moved. They simply stared—two souls teetering on the edge of something irreversible.
Finally, she stepped aside. "Come in."
Adrian entered slowly, careful, as though afraid any sudden movement might make her change her mind. The air between them was thick with unsaid words, with emotions that could no longer be contained.
"Why now?" he asked softly, searching her face. "Why let me in tonight?"
Amara swallowed, her voice barely steady. "Because I'm tired of running. Tired of pretending I don't feel this. Tired of being afraid." Her eyes glistened. "Adrian, you terrify me… but losing you terrifies me more."
The tension snapped.
In two strides, he was before her, his hands cupping her face, his forehead pressed to hers. His voice was hoarse, trembling with the weight of everything he had held back.
"You have no idea," he murmured, "how long I've waited to hear that."
Her breath shuddered as tears slipped free. "Then don't make me regret it."
Adrian's thumb brushed her cheek, tender, reverent. "I could never."
Silence wrapped around them again, but this time it was different—it was charged, alive. His gaze dropped to her lips, lingering, asking without words.
Amara's heart thundered. For the first time, she didn't pull back. She didn't shield herself. Instead, she leaned in, surrendering to the gravity that had always pulled her toward him.
And when his lips finally touched hers—it wasn't fire, it wasn't storm. It was something deeper. A kiss that was slow, aching, filled with the kind of devotion that left her trembling. He kissed her like she was precious, like she was his beginning and end.
Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer. His arms wrapped around her, grounding her even as he set her free. Every second of that kiss felt like a promise—a vow that they would face whatever came next together.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, he rested his forehead against hers again.
"You're mine now," he whispered, not as a claim, but as a vow.
Amara's lips curved into the faintest, trembling smile. "I always was."