“Don’t,” I said softly, my voice shaking—not just from fear, but from how confused I felt about everything.
He let me go instantly, his hands falling back to his sides as though nothing had happened. As though he hadn’t just held me like he owned the air I breathed.
A few seconds passed.
Then his voice cut through the tension, low, calm, and razor-sharp. "Can’t you at least try to stand up for yourself? Must you let them get away with everything they throw at you?”
The words sliced through me like a blade. I flinched, eyes wide. I wanted to respond. I wanted to scream to him that I could. That I wanted to, only that it would cause more trouble. But no words came out. I just stared at him, pain stinging me.
He took a step closer, his arms crossing his chest. His expression is undeciphe
