KEIRA 

In the quiet intimacy of Clint's bedroom, the air held a mixture of tension and vulnerability. I lay beside him, the weight of unspoken words lingering between us. Clint, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, finally broke the silence.

"Keira, I can't help but feel that you have not truly healed. It is as if you have used me as a glue, holding together the fragments but not addressing the broken pieces underneath." Clint took a breath, the weight of his concern hanging in the air. "You need ...