IRIS

The room is quiet except for the sound of our breathing.

The fire has burned low, painting the walls in gold and shadow, and for a long time neither of us speaks. Darian’s hand is warm in mine. His thumb traces slow circles across my skin as if memorizing me by touch alone.

I should feel calm. Safe. But beneath the quiet, something inside me is shifting, like a storm gathering just beneath my ribs.

His eyes search mine. “You don’t have to do this tonight,” he says softly. “You’ve been through enough.”

But I shake my head before I even realize I’m doing it. “I need to. I...