A step Closer

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The world outside was alive with movement, yet inside her apartment, time felt slower. The city buzzed beyond the windows—cars honking, distant laughter from the street below—but she barely noticed any of it. Her attention was fixed on the man sitting across from her on the couch, his fingers drumming lightly against his knee as he watched her with careful eyes.

There was a quiet tension between them, one that hadn't been there before. Not an argument, not anger—just something unspoken. Something waiting to be acknowledged.

"I feel like you're hesitating again," he finally said, his voice calm but edged with something deeper.

She sighed, leaning back against the cushions. "I'm not hesitating."

He tilted his head, unconvinced. "Then what is it?"

She bit her lip. It wasn't that she didn't want this—him, them. It was that wanting something this much terrified her.

"I guess… I just don't know how to do this," she admitted.

His brows furrowed. "Do what?"

She gestured between them. "This. Being with someone who actually stays. Trusting that it's real."

He exhaled slowly, as if weighing his next words. "I get it," he said. "But I'm not going anywhere."

She wanted to believe that. More than anything. But she had spent so long convincing herself that love was temporary, that people left, that nothing truly lasted. Unlearning that belief wasn't easy.

She tucked her legs beneath her, hugging a pillow to her chest. "What if I screw it up?" she whispered.

His gaze softened. "Then we fix it. Together."

She searched his face, looking for any trace of doubt, any hesitation—but there was none. He meant every word.

"I don't want to push you away," she admitted.

"You won't," he assured her.

"But I—"

He leaned forward, gently taking her hands in his. "Listen to me," he said, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. "I know you're scared. I know this isn't easy for you. But I'm not asking you to be perfect. I'm asking you to trust me."

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Trust. That was the hardest part, wasn't it?

He squeezed her hands lightly. "Can you do that?"

She inhaled deeply, then exhaled, feeling the weight of her fears pressing down on her. And yet, despite it all, there was something steady about him—something that made her believe, even just a little, that maybe this time could be different.

She nodded slowly. "I can try."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "That's all I need."

And just like that, the space between them felt a little smaller.

A step closer.

---

But the conversation didn't end there.

She let out a slow breath, glancing at their hands still linked together. "It's not just about trust," she admitted, her voice quieter now, as if saying the words too loudly would make them real.

His expression softened, and he gave her the space to continue.

"I keep thinking… what if this all falls apart? What if I get too used to you being here, and then one day you're not?"

His jaw tightened slightly, but there was no frustration in his gaze. Only understanding.

"I can't promise you that nothing bad will ever happen," he admitted. "I can't promise that life won't throw challenges at us."

She swallowed hard.

"But what I can promise," he continued, "is that I won't walk away just because things get hard. I don't run at the first sign of trouble."

She nodded, but the fear still gnawed at her. "You say that now, but what if—"

He cut her off gently, squeezing her hand. "No 'what ifs.' We take this one day at a time. Together."

The way he said it made something inside her loosen, just a little.

She had spent so long preparing herself for the worst that she had never considered what it would feel like to actually trust in the best.

She pulled her hands away, running them through her hair. "I don't know how to stop overthinking," she admitted with a nervous laugh.

He smiled. "I know."

Her brows lifted. "You know?"

He chuckled. "Of course I know. I know how your mind works. You overanalyze every little thing, you assume the worst before it even happens, and you make up imaginary scenarios where everything crashes and burns."

She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Wow. Thanks."

He grinned, but then his voice softened. "But I also know that you care deeply. That you love with everything in you, even if you're scared to show it sometimes."

Her breath caught.

"You don't have to figure it all out today," he said. "Or tomorrow. I just want to know that you're willing to try."

She stared at him for a long moment, searching for any sign that he might be saying these things just to make her feel better. But she found none.

Only honesty.

Only him.

And for once, she decided to let herself believe it.

She leaned forward slightly, her fingers brushing against his before she took his hand again. "Okay," she said. "I'm willing to try."

His smile was slow and warm, wrapping around her like a promise.

"Good," he murmured. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

The words settled something deep inside her, and for the first time in a long time, she let herself breathe.

Maybe, just maybe, this was what it felt like to take a step closer to something real.

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