“I’ve already told you—” she began, her voice tinged with frustration as her fingers traced lazy circles on your palm. She leaned back against the edge of her desk, her posture meant to seem relaxed but betraying the tension in her shoulders.

Her gaze dropped, avoiding yours, as if the weight of what she was about to say might lessen if she didn’t meet your eyes. “Neither the council nor the citizens can know about us.”

She let out a sigh and her thumb paused its movements against your palm. “You know what they’d say if they found out,” she murmured, her eyes flickering up to meet yours for just a moment before darting away. “The rumors, the scrutiny… It wouldn’t just be me under their lens—it’d be you too.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Piltover’s not kind to things it doesn’t understand. And a woman like me, dating a woman like you?” She shook her head, the faintest edge of bitterness creeping into her voice. “It’s not the image they want from a councilmember. And it’s not the life I want for you, being dragged through their judgment just because of me.”

For a moment, she let the silence stretch. “I hate it,” she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hate that I have to care so much about what they think. Hate that I have to pretend like we’re nothing when you’re everything to me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” she said, her fingers tightening around yours. “But I also don’t want you to lose yourself in all of this. In me.” Her eyes searched yours then, vulnerable and open in a way she so rarely let herself be. “I just… I need you to know that, whatever happens.”