I felt the tears and I shut my eyes to hold them back.
“Good girl,” I said, too hoarse to make it pretty. “Breathe for me.”
She did. Slow. I matched it. Three counts in, four counts out. She followed my rhythm like she’d never stopped doing it. It steadied my hands. It steadied the little shake that had started at my wrist when she touched me.
When I opened my eyes, she was still where I left her, in my hands, chin tipped, eyes lifted. Waiting.
“Listen to me. You didn’t make me snap. The world did.My choices did. That isn’t on you.” I slid one hand to the side of her throat. “You hear me?”
She nodded.
“Good girl.” I felt the way the praise moved through her. “You don’t carry my war. You never will.”
She closed her eyes at that and leaned into my hand.
“Alright,” I murmured. “Look at me.”
She obeyed. I kissed her forehead once. Her temple next. The corner of her mouth without taking more than I was offered. She softened under each touch the way I needed to feel her soften slowly, real, not performance, not fear.
“Angel,” I said against her skin. “You’re safe.”
Her hands slid to the back of my neck. The little tug she gave me wasn’t about lust; it was about belonging. I stepped in, hips to the counter, careful with her.
“You’re going to listen now,” I said. “Not to the city. Not to old rules. To me.” I waited for her nod. “Good girl. Breathe.”
I talked her through it. In for three. Hold for two. Out for four. Again. My voice stayed low and even until her shoulders fell, until she stopped trying to be strong. I brushed my knuckles under her chin.
“That’s it. You’re doing perfect.”
“Luca.”
“Mm.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And I love you,” I put my mouth to her hairline. “I’m proud of you for staying.”
Her breath stuttered—one of those tiny breaking sounds that meant praise had landed where it should. I kept going.
“Baby, you’re safe now. Daddy’s got you.” I kissed her softly. “You hear me?”
A small sound. “Yes.”
“Say it back.”
“I’m safe,” she whispered. “You’ve got me.”
“Good girl.” I kissed her jaw. “You’re ours. You don’t go anywhere we can’t reach you.”
She was softer now, shoulders relaxed. I slid one hand down, pressed it flat over her sternum, feeling her heart beat. “This. All mine to keep steady. Let me.”
She nodded again. The movement brushed her mouth against my cheek.
“I was ashamed,” I said into her hair. “Of losing control. Of how easy it was to give the city what it wanted from me.” The truth wasn’t gentle, but I gave it gentle anyway. “I didn’t look because I didn’t want to see my worst self reflected back.”
She pulled back enough to meet my eyes. “Look now.”
I did. What looked back wasn’t fear. It was clear. There were tears, but they were the kind that come after a thing survives, not before it breaks. It undid me in the way that made me steadier.
