The fire crackled low in the hearth, its glow flickering against the stone walls of the manor. Shadows stretched long across the room, dancing in the dim candlelight. The air was thick with unspoken words, heavy with the weight of what had passed between you and Tom.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. Not since that night.

Not since you stood over his father’s body, your love for him tainted by vengeance.

But tonight, he was here.

You felt his presence before you saw him. The door creaked open, and there he was—standing in the threshold, cloaked in darkness. His gaze found yours instantly, unreadable, cold.

You rose from your seat, pulse hammering, but neither of you moved closer. The distance between you felt like a chasm neither of you knew how to cross.

“You disappeared,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

Tom exhaled sharply, stepping inside. The door shut behind him with a finality that sent a shiver down your spine. He looked different. More distant.

“I needed time,” he said simply.

You swallowed. “And now?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied you, his gaze sweeping over your face as if searching for something—remorse, guilt, the girl he once loved.

"I thought about k/IIing you," he admitted, his voice almost too calm.

Your breath hitched, but you held your ground. "And?"

A muscle in his jaw tightened. "And I couldn't."

"You should hate me," you whispered.

Tom took a slow step forward. "I do." Another step. "And I don’t."

Your heart ached at the contradiction, at the raw honesty in his voice. The love was still there, buried beneath the ruins of what you had done. Twisted, broken, but alive.

"You ruined everything," he murmured, now only inches away. "I know," you whispered.

His fingers brushed your wrist, hesitant, unsure. A test. A warning.

"Tell me," he said, his breath warm against your skin. "If you could take it back—would you?"

And you knew, whatever you said next would decide whether you were standing at the edge of redemption—or destruction.