Page 248 of Emylia

And his restraint shattered.

He kissed me.

It wasn’t soft.

It was a collision.

A thunderclap of everything we’d tried not to say.

He kissed me like he was trying to piece me back together—one shattered breath at a time.

“I thought I lost you to him,” he said against my lips, voice splintering. “And I didn’t know how to keep breathing.”

But then… he saw me.

Really saw me.

The tears. The guilt. The finality.

And I watched it happen. The moment the hope drained from his eyes.

“You’ve chosen him.”

It wasn’t a question. It was the sound of something dying.

I nodded.

Barely.

Like the motion itself might kill me.

“I’m sorry,” I choked. “I didn’t know until now.”

His hands dropped from my face. The space between us filled with something brutal. Heavy.

Unforgiving.

“You don’t have to soften the blow,” he said. “I can take it.”

“I’m not softening it,” I whispered. “I’m just… trying not to shatter while I say it.”

“Then don’t break me,” he begged. “Choose me.”

My heart split at the seams.

Because Gods, I wanted to.

But I couldn’t.

“As much as I want you—need you—I can’t choose you.”

He flinched, like I’d struck him.

“I love you too damn much,” I said, broken. “That’s why I can’t. Because if I choose you… and we fall apart… I won’t survive it.”

“You love me so much... you won’t let yourself be in love with me?” he whispered. A bitter, humorless laugh caught in his throat.

I nodded, tears falling freely now. “It’s not the kind of love I can survive.”

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