The window creaked softly as it slid open, the cool night air brushing your skin. Startled, you sat up in bed just as a shadow slipped inside—tall, broad-shouldered, and unmistakably familiar.

“Jacob?” you whispered, heart leaping in surprise.

He stood there, shirtless and barefoot, the moonlight catching the lines of muscle across his chest and the tension in his jaw. His eyes, usually warm, were guarded tonight.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “But I couldn’t keep this in anymore.”

You moved to the edge of the bed. “Jake, what’s going on?”

He looked at you then—really looked—and the walls around him seemed to drop. “I love you,” he said, the words like thunder in the quiet room. “I have for a long time.”

Your breath caught.

“But you’re always with them. Him.” His voice cracked slightly, and he turned away. “I didn’t think I stood a chance. Not when your world is full of cold, perfect immortals.”

You stepped closer, reaching out before he could disappear into the night again.

“Jake…” you said gently, voice trembling with something unspoken.

He looked back at you, vulnerability breaking through his usual bravado. “Just tell me if I should go. If there’s no hope.”