Page 59 of Fire and Silk
He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. It lingers.
When he pulls back, his eyes are wet again.
“I love you, Lira,” he says. “I was so afraid to admit it before. But I have always loved you.”
The words hang between us, unflinching. They don’t tremble the way I do. They land squarely in my chest and sit there, heavy, warm, and terrifying.
He looks so steady when he says it. Not desperate. Not rehearsed. Just honest. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and always has been.
And maybe it has.
Because the truth is—I’ve always loved him too.
I loved him when I was eleven, hiding behind the stair rail with a nosebleed just so he’d see me and walk over and tilt my chin to check the damage. I loved him when I left little candy bars on the windowsill of the guest room, hoping he’d think theywere from Marco or the housekeeper and take them without knowing. He always did.
I loved him in those stupid, shy little-girl ways that feel ridiculous in hindsight but meant everything to me then. Sliding folded notes into his gym bag. Asking him if he liked my hair when I changed the ribbon. Pretending to limp down the hallway so he’d ask if I needed help.
And he always did.
When I was in rehab, I stared at the door like it owed me something. I waited for footsteps. Any footsteps. I stared at my phone screen every night until the light burned my eyes, hoping maybe he’d call. Hoping he hadn’t forgotten me. Hoping that maybe—just maybe—he’d come sweep me out of that place like it was all some mistake.
He never came.
But now he’s here. He’s saying all the things I begged for in silence. Promises. Apologies.I love you.
And yet… I can’t say the words back.
They’re lodged somewhere behind my ribs, swollen and aching. I feel them in my throat, hot and desperate. But they won’t move. They stay caged there, pulsing with all the grief I haven’t named.
He must sense it—my stillness, the weight in my eyes. Because he speaks again, and his voice softens even further.
“I know I hurt you,” he says. “I know I don’t deserve to be here. But I won’t give up .”
He reaches for my hand.
“I’ll prove to you that you’re safe with me.”
The space between us folds in. I don’t resist.
He leans forward and wraps his arms around me again, slower , as if giving me the chance to pull away. But I don’t. I fall into him like breath returning to lungs. My head rests against his chest, where I can hear his heart—solid, rhythmic, alive.
I’ve missed this. Missed him. The way he smells like salt and cedar. The way he holds me like I matter. I want to stay here, buried in his warmth until everything else falls away. I want to forget the steel walls and the panic and the blood in my mouth and the scent of silk straining against my throat.
I want to forget that I tried to end it.
I close my eyes.
But something doesn’t settle. It hovers at the edge of my thoughts like static. A twinge low in my belly, like a thread pulling taut. I don’t know what it is.
I shift slightly. I feel the blanket slide over my legs. His arms tighten just a little.
I try to breathe deep—but it catches halfway.
This should feel like peace.
So why does it still feel like I’m being watched?
Chapter Ten – Severo
