The next few days felt like an endless push and pull between what I wanted and what I needed. Cross stayed close, always there when I needed him, but never pushing too hard. His presence, though steady, reminded me of the turmoil I was trying to suppress. I felt torn—my love for Vincent was still fierce, but there was a part of me acknowledging how much Cross had done for me, how much he cared. But I couldn’t let myself fall. I wouldn’t.
The morning after the fever had broken, I stood at the window, staring out at the gray sky. The rain pattered softly against the glass, and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to find some semblance of calm.
"You’re leaving today," I muttered under my breath, though even as I spoke, I knew it wasn’t true. Cross wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was
