The greenhouse sweltered with humidity and tension. Vines curled around tall wooden trellises, flowers blooming in frantic bursts of color, mocking the decay blooming in your chest.

“You don’t get to act like this was some betrayal,” you snapped, pacing between pots of orchids. “I made the call because I had to. There were children in that radius, Haider—”

“You think I don’t know that?” he shouted back. “You think I don’t live with the weight of that math every goddamn day?”

He moved closer, too fast, too loud, the rain hammering against the glass above, thunder rolling through his words.

“You keep acting like you’re the only one bleeding for this cause. Like you’re the only one who gets to carry it.” He shook his head, jaw tight. “You cut me out of the decision like I was—what? Disposable? Unimportant? Just some man you sleep with when the politics aren’t too loud?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair,” he barked, eyes burning, “is loving someone who only lets me in when she’s calm. When it’s safe.”

Silence. Thick, aching.

Your heartbeat crashed against your ribs like the storm above. His words hit harder than any reprimand ever could.

You stared at him, chest heaving. “You what?”

He blinked, like the words had escaped before he could catch them. But he didn’t take them back.

“I love you,” he said again, louder now, as if defiance could make it hurt less. “I fucking love you, and I’ve been standing here this whole time begging to be let in and you—you just keep locking the door behind you like I wouldn’t walk through fire for you!”

The heat in your chest cracked open. You could barely breathe.

“You’re a hypocrite,” you whispered, blinking fast. “Yelling at me like you don’t do the same thing—like you didn’t almost die last month and not tell me until after the stitches came out!”

“I did that because I—!”

“Because you love me, yeah, I fucking heard you!”

And then you were in his arms, crashing together like lightning striking glass, shattering all the space between.

Your hands fisted in the front of his jacket, dragging him down as your lips collided—hard, desperate, starved. His mouth crushed against yours like he’d been holding back for years. And maybe he had. You gasped into the kiss, and he used it to tilt your head and deepen it, tongue sliding in with a groan that sounded more like a prayer than anything else.

He tasted like heat and something bitter—like swallowed pride and cinnamon.

“Say it again,” you breathed between kisses, tugging at his collar. “Say it.”

His hand slid up the back of your neck, pulling you in. “I love you,” he growled against your mouth. “I love you so much it’s killing me.”

You kissed him like he was the last thing keeping you tethered. Like the words could stitch together every fracture between you.

His hands were everywhere—cradling your jaw, gripping your waist, sliding into your hair like he needed to memorize the shape of you. You were pulled against his chest so tightly your feet barely touched the floor, his breath shaking as he broke the kiss only long enough to press his forehead to yours.

“You terrify me,” he whispered. “And