You were sitting on my lap, your body fitting against mine as if it had been made to be there. Your leg draped over mine, your hand gripping the estela tightly, trying to keep the line steady. But I saw it. I felt it. How wrong your breathing was. The way your fingers trembled. How you rested your forehead on my shoulder, as if the weight of everything was crushing you right there.

And even wounded, even with the cut burning on my side, all I could think about was how beautiful you looked like that — determined, furious, vulnerable. Your warm skin against mine. Your hair brushing my chin. The way you held onto me, as if just by touching me you could keep me here.

The runes’ lines began to form, but you froze. Stayed still for a second, just breathing. And so did I.

There, with you sitting on my lap, the lines between mission and feeling blurred. And as much as I knew time was short… all I wanted was for you to never leave.

You took a deep breath, like you were fighting something inside you — maybe the pain, maybe the fear. Maybe… what had been happening between us for much longer than anyone could understand.

Your body was still pressed against mine, and every part of you was a living reminder of what I’d always tried to hide. The warmth of your legs, the way your hands pressed my skin, the weight of your trust on me.

And it was stronger than me.

My voice came out before I could stop it, raw, low, almost breathless:

“Did you kiss Mark that night?”

You froze.

The estela stopped in midair, the rune’s lines unfinished, trembling between your fingers. The silence between us stretched like an invisible crack. I felt your breath catch, felt your body stiffen in my lap.

And for a moment, it felt like even the world had stopped to hear your answer.

But I needed to know. Even if it hurt. Even if the answer burned me inside.

“I saw the way you looked at him,” I continued, quieter, more vulnerable than I wanted to be.

It wasn’t jealousy.

It was fear. Fear that you were slipping away from me. That the place where you had always lived — right here, in my heart — was empty, and I hadn’t even noticed.

It was just a silent plea.

Tell me no. Tell me it’s still me. Tell me that even if everything falls apart, you still choose to fall with me.

You looked into my eyes then. Slowly. And I saw there everything you had also been trying to hide. Pain. Confusion. Guilt. Love.

And for a second — just one second — everything stopped.

Just you and me.

And everything we never had the courage to say.