After a time, Pax exhales slowly, the sound carrying weight. “We’re in deep, you know that?”
“Yes.”
“There’s no going back.”
“No.”
He lets out a quiet breath that borders on a laugh. “Didn’t think so.”
I turn to him fully. “There was never a path that led us elsewhere,” I say.
He watches me carefully. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
His gaze holds mine, searching for something that is no longer there. Doubt. Hesitation. Loss. Whatever he seeks, he does not find it.
Slowly, he smiles. “I’m glad you think that,” he says.
“I know it.”
The bond shifts, not in intensity, but in depth. It locks into something steady and unshakeable. He steps closer, closing the last distance between us, his hand coming to rest lightly against my chest. The contact is simple, but it carries warmth that moves through me with quiet certainty.
“I chose you,” he says.
I still, not because the words are new, but because they remain significant each time he speaks them. “I know.”
“No,” he replies, voice firmer now. “I chose you. Not the bond. Not the situation. You.”
There is no doubt in him.
No fracture.
No hesitation.
I raise my hand to cover his. “And I choose you,” I say.
He exhales slowly, some tension easing from him. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because you’re stuck with me.”
“I am aware.”
That draws a quiet laugh from him. He leans in, pressing his forehead briefly to my chin, a gesture that has become familiar in a way I did not expect.
“Promise me something,” he says.
“Speak it.”
“That whatever happens next, we don’t lose this.”
I understand what he means. Not the bond. Not the connection that binds us beyond choice.
This.
What we choose to build within it.
“I will not allow it,” I say.
He nods, accepting that.
