“No,” he admitted. “I would’ve stayed guarded and called it strength.”
Sophie nodded slowly.
“Do you regret it?” she asked.
Damian looked at her, at the woman who had once begged him not to leave, and who now saved strangers for a living.
“I regret hurting you,” he said. “I regret making you relive pain. I regret the tears.”
Sophie’s eyes softened.
“But I don’t regret waking up,” Damian added quietly. “I don’t regret learning that I can’t keep living like a man who thinks love is a trap.”
Sophie nudged him gently with her shoulder, a small gesture that felt like forgiveness in motion.
“I’m glad you’re not dead,” she murmured.
Damian held her hand, steady and warm.
“So am I,” he said.
And this time, it wasn’t a performance.
It was the truth.
THE END
