I didn’t move right away after that. The room stayed quiet, but it wasn’t empty anymore. Elijah’s words lingered between us, heavy and fragile, like glass you were afraid to touch because it might cut both of you.

I rested my forehead against his for a few seconds longer, breathing him in, letting the warmth of his presence ground me. He smelled familiar—clean, steady, safe—and for a moment, the chaos in my chest softened.

“I’m not choosing the past,” I said again, this time ...