Page 186 of When the Storm Breaks

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Then, suddenly, he steps closer. Just one small movement—but it feels huge.

His voice breaks when he speaks again, like the words are tearing something open.

“Ever since you left, I’ve been trying to make things right. But I don’t know what that looks like without you.”

I can’t breathe. I know he’s trying. I see it. I feel it.

But even with all that, it still doesn’t feel like enough.

His gaze drops, eyes dragging over me—slow and searching.

“I get it if you can’t forgive me.”

I don’t answer. I can’t. My thoughts are too loud.

My heart’s louder.

Please don’t walk away.

His voice falters, then steadies—bare, honest.

“The truth is, I still love you, Calla. I never stopped. I don’t know if I ever will.”

I freeze.

It should hurt. Should crush me. But it doesn’t. It lands—soft, quiet. Like something that’s always lived in me. Something that’s always belonged.

“You’re the light I never saw coming,” he says. “And now that I’ve had it, I don’t know how to exist in the dark again.”

My heart hammers against my ribs.

I want to reach out—ache to—but I don’t know if I’m ready to touch him yet.

So I just stand there. Listening. Taking in every word, every piece of himself he’s offering.

No walls. No defenses.

I hear the change in him. The growth. The awareness of what he’s done, of who he wants to be.

But somehow, it doesn’t quiet the pain. It doesn’t erase the ache.

It’s too much. All of it.

I take a step back.

Not because I want to, but because I have to.

Because it feels like I’m coming apart at the seams, and if I don’t put space between us, I won’t survive it.

I want to reach for him.

I want to ask him to hold me. To piece me back together.

“I have to go,” I whisper.

He shifts—abrupt, startled.

Panic flashes through his eyes before he can hide it.

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