"Do you?" I asked, but the words came sharper than I intended.
He exhaled. "Yes, El, last night, I realized something."
"What?"
He stepped slightly closer, voice low. "I keep trying to protect you by removing choices from you."
"And?"
"And that is not protection," he admitted. "It's control. I know the difference now. I should not have crossed that line."
My pulse hammered.
He continued, quieter, "You deserve a partner… not a handler."
My throat tightened.
He touched my forearm gently, not gripping, not claiming, but asking for permission.
"I'm trying, Elena," he murmured. "Tell me if I get it wrong."
"You got it wrong," I whispered. "A lot."
"I know."
"But… you're trying now."
"I am."
"Then, good."
Something eased between us; it was like a knot loosening, and it felt great.
We walked again, slower, more aware of each other. At one point, he bought us warm buns from a street vendor, and for a moment we were just… two people walking the city.
