It had been two years—two years of silence, of distance, of pretending you’d moved on. But when you were with Johnny again, it all came rushing back. That gravity. That ache. That comfort only he could give.

You weren’t supposed to be here. Your therapist would have told you to stay far away. But no one knew you like he did. No one ever held you the way he could—with hands that said "stay," even when the words were harder to say.

You were back in his arms now, and everything had changed. You both had. Hell and time will do that to people. But your biggest mistake had been leaving—and you weren’t going to repeat it.

He was scared. So were you. But you kissed him anyway, slow and sweet and full of all the things you couldn’t say. Because maybe this time it'll be different.