Ethan's pov
The night air felt thick with tension as I watched her back retreat, each step carrying her further away from me and everything I'd hoped for. My heart throbbed painfully in my chest—raw, exposed, aching. I wanted to call her back, to wrap her in my arms and tell her everything would be okay. But I knew words weren't enough—not yet.
"Lena," I said, my voice low and trembling, carrying every ounce of feeling I had. "Please... don't shut me out."
She stopped, just barely, the faintest pause that gave me hope. I took a careful step closer, trying to close the space not just between our bodies but between the walls we'd both built.
"I'm not asking you to have all the answers right now," I told her softly. "I'm not asking you to fix anything or make everything perfect. I just want to be there—for the good and the bad, for the moments you want to hide and the moments you want to share."
Her shoulders shook with a silent tremor, and I saw the fierce, stubborn strength she carried even when she was breaking inside.
"I know it's complicated," I continued, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. "I know you have secrets I don't understand. But I love you—all of you. The parts you show, the parts you hide, the parts you're still figuring out."
She turned slowly, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, searching mine as if trying to find some truth she hoped was real.
"I'm scared too," I admitted, voice cracking. "Scared that I'll hurt you, scared that I'm not enough, scared that you'll walk away. But I can't stop caring. And I won't stop trying."
Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip, the conflict written across her face like a storm about to break.
"I don't want to lose you, Lena," I said, reaching out, my fingers trembling as they brushed against her hand. "Not now. Not ever."
Her eyes locked onto mine, vulnerability and strength battling within them. Slowly, she reached back, intertwining her fingers with mine—the smallest touch but the most powerful promise.
It wasn't a solution. It wasn't a fairy tale ending.
But it was the beginning of something real.
And sometimes, that's all you need.