Third Person Caz
The forest wrapped around them like a blanket—cool, damp, and forgiving. Night birds called softly in the distance, a lullaby of shadows and rustling leaves. Caz leaned into Stella’s side, forehead resting against her fur, his breath shallow, quiet.
For the first time in what felt like days, maybe weeks, the thoughts in his head weren’t screaming over each other. The silence between them, between him and Stella, wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a balm—proof that someone could see him unravel and not turn away.
His fingers curled into the grass.
“I don’t think I know how to be the man she needs,” he said, voice so soft it barely broke the hush of night. “I know how to fight. How to rebuild. How to bleed and make it mean something. But I don’t know how to love without being
