Her lips trembled.
“You do not understand,” she said, shaking her head faintly. “Every time you were kind… every time you chose us… every time you looked at me with that intensity… something inside me wanted to believe it meant more.”
She closed her eyes briefly, as if bracing herself.
“But hope is dangerous when you are not certain you are allowed to feel it.”
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Zayn’s voice softened, stripped of everything but sincerity.
“Then do not speak from hope,” he said. “Speak from what you feel now.”
Her eyes opened.
They were shining with unshed tears.
Inside her chest, fear and longing collided violently, neither willing to surrender.
She thought of his hands holding their sons.
Of his quiet presence during sleepless nights.
Of the way he looked at
