His Apologies, My Weakness

Chapter Two : The Silence Between His Heartbeats

I told myself I wouldn’t fall for him.

Not again.

Not after the first time felt like stepping into fire with my eyes closed.

But the moment Stefan whispered my name in the dark…

my heart remembered him before my mind could protest.

The night air still clung to my skin long after the storm had passed. Even with Stefan sleeping on the other side of the room, I could feel every breath he took. It shocked me how something as simple as the rise and fall of his chest could pull me in like a quiet magnet.

I sat at the edge of my bed, pulling my knees close,watching the shadows dance across the wall.My heartbeat wouldn't settle.Not because I was scared… but because I was remembering. Remembering the boy he used to be. Remembering the first morning he made me laugh. The first time he whispered “I will never hurt you" like a promise carved into the sky.

But promises…

They break just as easily as hearts.

Stefan shifted.A soft groan left his lips, and I froze.His eyelids fluttered before he finally opened his eyes. And when he looked at me,it felt like the room took its first breath since last night.

“Ani…" he whispered, voice rough from sleep.“You didn’t sleep."

“I wasn’t tired," I said, though we both knew it wasn’t true.

He pushed himself up slowly, wincing a little at the bruise on his arm. I wanted to reach out God, I wanted to but I kept my hands curled tightly in my lap.

Stefan noticed.

He always did.

“Are you upset with me?" he asked softly.

I laughed, but it came out broken. “Stefan, do you really want to ask me that?"

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard.“You didn’t want me here. I shouldn’t have shown up like that. I just… I didn’t know where else to go."

And that was the problem. Because every time he didn’t know where to go…

he came to me.

And every time he came to me…

I chose him, even when it hurt.

“I’m not angry," I whispered. “Just… confused."

His eyes softened. “About me?"

“No," I said quietly. “About myself."

Stefan stood,but slowly—like he was afraid any sudden movement would break me. He walked toward me with steps soft enough to be mistaken for apologies.When he reached me, he crouched down so our eyes were level.

“Ani… look at me."

I didn’t want to. Because when I looked at him, I remembered how easily he could shatter me with just one smile.

But I looked anyway.

His hand hesitated in the air before he gently touched my cheek. “I know I’ve hurt you. More than once. More than I ever intended."

“Then why do you keep doing it?" I asked, voice trembling.

His thumb stilled. “Because I’m messed up. And because I’m scared of losing you in ways I can’t even understand."

When Stefan was honest like this—raw, vulnerable, stripped of pride—it was impossible not to feel something shift inside me. I hated that he knew it.I hated that he used it. And yet… I couldn’t look away.

“I don’t want to hurt anymore," I whispered.

“Then let me make it right," he murmured. “Please."

I swallowed hard. “How many times will you say that, Stefan? And how many times will I believe you?"

He closed his eyes, his forehead touching my knee.“Just give me one more chance. Just one."

His voice wasn’t strong.

It wasn’t confident.

It wasn’t the Stefan the world knew.

It was the Stefan only I had seen.

The boy behind the walls.

The boy who cried once in my arms when his world fell apart.

The boy I should have walked away from…

but never could.

I reached out before I could stop myself, my fingers brushing the back of his neck. He inhaled sharply like the touch meant more to him than words ever could.

“Stand up," I whispered.

He did.

And now we were close. Too close. Close enough that I could smell the faint scent of rain on his shirt.Close enough that I could hear the nervous tremor in his breathing.

“Do you want me to stay?" he asked.

I hated how gentle he sounded.

I hated how much it disarmed me.

“Yes," I admitted. “But I don’t know if I should."

He stepped closer still, his forehead touching mine. “Then don’t think. Just feel."

His hands held my waist carefully—as if I were something fragile, something breakable, something he didn’t want to damage again.

“Stefan…" I whispered.

“Yes?"

“Don’t kiss me unless you’re certain."

He smiled faintly. “I’ve never been more certain."

And then he kissed me.

Soft first.

Then deeper.

Then desperate

like he had been starving for something only I could give.

My hands gripped his shirt. His fingers slid into my hair. The world melted, just like it always did when he touched me.

God, I hated how much I loved him.

When we finally pulled away, breathless and trembling, he whispered against my lips:

“I choose you, Ani. Every time."

My heart squeezed painfully, beautifully.

I wanted to believe him.

I really did.

But the truth about love is simple belief doesn’t erase doubt.

It only softens it.

And Stefan…

Stefan was both my comfort and my confusion.

My tenderness and my torment.

My love and my weakness.

I rested my forehead on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my skin. “Stefan… if you break me again, I don’t know if I’ll recover."

He wrapped his arms around me slowly, carefully. “Then I won’t break you. Not this time."

But promises…

I had heard them before.

Still, for reasons my heart couldn’t explain…

I held him back.