Page 93 of Imperfect Desires

She climbs into bed slowly, every movement deliberate, heavy. When she looks at me, I brace myself to be told to leave. But instead, her voice comes soft and uncertain: “Will you sit with me?”

I don’t answer. I just move.

I sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch her. My hands feel too rough. My presence too wrong. She nestles into the pillows, curling in on herself, but she doesn’t look away from me.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she says, voice cracking.

“I never stopped looking.”

“But you left,” she whispers, her gaze dropping. “When I needed you the most.”

The words gut me.

“I know.” My voice is raw. “And I’m sorry.”

She turns her face toward me, and it hits me—how much pain she still carries. Because of me. Because I ran. I reach out, slowly brushing a strand of damp hair from her cheek. My fingers tremble as they touch her skin, but she doesn’t pull away.

“I thought I could live without you,” I murmur. “That staying away was the right thing. That I was protecting you.” I let out a low, bitter breath. “But I wasn’t. I was running. Because loving you scared the hell out of me.”

Her breath catches.

I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers. “I love you, Alina.”

For a heartbeat, there’s silence. Then another. I feel her inhale sharply—and then her body trembles beneath the blanket.

“I love you so damn much,” I say, “it’s wrecked me. I tried to kill it. Ignore it. Pretend you didn’t mean everything to me. But the second I thought I lost you—” My voice cracks. “It destroyed me.”

Her hand reaches for mine. She pulls me toward her, not caring about the blanket between us, not caring about bruises or exhaustion. Her arms wrap around my hand and press it to her chest, and then she’s crying—really crying.

“You love me?” she chokes out, her voice small, broken, beautiful. “You love me?”

I nod. “More than anything.”

Her eyes search mine, and then she lets out a shuddering breath. “I waited so long to hear you say it. I dreamed about it. I longed for it. I hated you for leaving, but I still loved you through every second you were gone.”

I feel her tears soak into my hand as she holds it tighter to her heart.

“I thought I’d never be enough for you,” she whispers. “That you’d never let yourself want me.”

“You were always enough,” I say hoarsely. “You were too much, Alina. That’s what scared me.”

She smiles through her tears, broken and beautiful, and then whispers, “Say it again.”

I kiss her knuckles slowly. “I love you.”

She closes her eyes. “Again.”

“I love you.”

Her breathing slows, and I feel her body start to soften. She doesn’t let go of my hand.

Then she opens her eyes one more time and says, “Then stay. Please.”

I nod, emotion thick in my throat. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”

And even though there’s space between us, even though I don’t lie beside her—because I haven’t earned that yet—this moment is more intimate than any touch I could give her. She closes her eyes, still holding my hand to her chest, and for the first time in a long time...

She falls into a peaceful sleep.

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