The silence between you hung thick, heavy, like something alive.

Eiser stood near the window, his back half-turned, shoulders rigid. The divorce papers had been signed. On paper, it was over. But your heart hadn’t caught up. Not even close.

“I can’t have you again,” he said, voice low, almost hollow. “Not when we’re recently divorced.”

The words didn’t just sting—they stabbed. Deep and clean.

You stared at him, your breath catching. “So…” you said, slowly, trying to steady your voice, “you want me to marry another man?”

He turned.

The look he gave you wasn’t calm. It was dark. Furious. Wounded. Possessive.

His jaw clenched tight. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” you challenged, stepping forward. “That’s what happens, isn’t it? People move on. Find someone else. Maybe someone who doesn’t hesitate.”

“Don’t,” he said again—sharper this time. And suddenly, he was right in front of you. Close enough to touch. But he didn’t. Not yet.

“You really think I could stand by and watch you belong to another man?” he asked, voice like thunder just before the storm.

Your heart pounded, but you didn’t back down. “You let me go,” you whispered. “You made it so easy.”

“It wasn’t easy,” he said, barely more than a breath.

“Then why?”

“Because I thought it was what you wanted,” he replied, finally looking you in the eyes. “Because if I held on, I thought I’d lose you completely.”

Something inside you cracked.

And in the space between you, something shifted.

“Then hold on now,” you said, voice steady, eyes locked with his. “If you still want me, stop pretending you don’t.”

His hand lifted—hesitating at first—then moved toward your face, fingertips trembling like he was scared you’d disappear if he touched you.

But you leaned into his hand, closed your eyes, and let yourself breathe for the first time in what felt like forever.

And in that stillness… he pulled you close.

The end had never really been the end.

It was just the moment before the truth finally broke free.