Rafe Cameron stood barefoot on the rooftop of his family’s estate, the salt wind whipping through his hair, the ocean below like a void waiting to swallow him. His fists were clenched, not from the cold, but from the storm inside him.

She found him there, like always—when the darkness in his eyes seemed deeper than usual. Her name didn’t matter to the world, but to Rafe, she was the only thing that kept him tethered.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

He didn’t answer. Just stared straight ahead.

“Scared of my own image,” he finally muttered, voice barely audible. “Scared of my own immaturity… scared of my own ceiling.”

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing his hand. “You don’t have to be.”

“I do.” His jaw clenched. “Every time I try to change, I look in the mirror and see him—my father. I do something stupid, violent… it’s like I’m stuck under this ceiling I’ll never break.”

She cupped his face, made him look at her. “Then smash it. Be more than him. Be more than what people expect.”

Rafe looked at her like she was the only thing real. And maybe she was.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Then I’ll be here every time you try.”

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.