We pulled apart slowly.
Like breaking away was harder than staying.
His forehead rested against mine.
Our breaths uneven.
He didn’t let go.
Not completely.
“This shouldn’t have happened.”
His voice was quiet.
Unsteady.
For the first time—
He didn’t sound in control.
“Then why did it?” I asked softly.
He didn’t answer right away.
His eyes searched mine.
Like he was trying to understand something he couldn’t explain.
“I don’t know.”
That honesty surprised me.
“Do you regret it?” I asked.
A pause.
A real one.
Then—
“No.”
My heart skipped.
“Then what’s the problem?”
He exhaled slowly.
“The problem is… I don’t trust myself anymore.”
“With me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His hand tightened slightly around mine.
“Because I was supposed to hate you.”
The words were heavy.
Real.
“And now?” I whispered.
He looked at me.
Really looked at me.
And this time—
There was no anger.
No distance.
No lies.
Just truth.
Raw and dangerous.
“Now…” he said softly,
“I don’t think I can.”
Silence followed.
But this time—
It didn’t hurt.
Because we both understood.
Everything had changed.
And whatever this was…
It wasn’t something we could walk away from anymore.
Because now—
There was no going back.