Suddenly, he started following her.
She didn’t turn. Not fully. Not yet. She walked, trying to put space between them, but the echo of his words — “I’m not going anywhere” — clung to her chest like a weight she couldn’t shake.
He stepped closer again, slow, deliberate, each movement a challenge. Her pulse raced, a warning she couldn’t ignore.
“You can’t just leave like that, like nothing happened.” He murmured, voice low, hoarse. “Not after everything.”
“I—I have to,” she whispered, trying to sound resolute, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her.
He reached for her, not grabbing, just lifting a hand so that the tips of his fingers hovered near hers. The air seemed to sizzle between them.
“Evelyn,” he said softly, his eyes dark, raw. “I need you to stop pretending this is simple. I
