Page 44 of Hidden

He unclenched his fist, and I leant forward and placed my forehead against his, the thin sheet of glass the only barrier between us, and for a moment, that’s how we stayed.

How I wanted this moment to last forever.

But it couldn’t, and I couldn’t continue doing this to him. I couldn’t keep selfishly giving him enough crumbs of myself to keep him around.

But I couldn’t.

Iwouldn’t.

Because loving him had never been about holding on.

It had always been about letting go.

My hand lifted, betraying the moment, betraying him, hovering just inches from the glass. My fingers trembling as theycurled slightly, as if they could still remember what it felt like to touch him.

His breath hit the glass again, heavier this time, his hand shifting, pressing more firmly against it, like he was trying to get closer, like the barrier between us was something he could break if he just tried hard enough.

My heart shattered quietly in my chest.

He didn’t understand.

Hestilldidn’t understand.

And that was my fault.

I had let him believe in something that could never survive this world.

I had let him believe in me.

A fresh wave of tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t let them fall, blinking them back as I forced myself to do the one thing I had always been able to do, no matter how much it cost me.

The one thing that had kept him alive.

I stepped back.

The movement was small, but it felt like tearing something vital out of my chest.

His expression shifted instantly, something dark and desperate flickering across his face as the distance widened, even by that insignificant amount.

And that almost broke me.

Almost.

But almost wasn’t enough.

It never had been.

I turned away before I could change my mind, before I could give in to the pull of him, before I could undo everything I had fought so hard to protect.

Each step toward the curtain felt heavier than the last, my body screaming at me to stop, to turn back, to choose something different this time.

I didn’t.

I reached for the curtain tie with shaking hands, my fingers fumbling slightly as they closed around the cord.

For a second, I hesitated. Just long enough to feel him there, to feel the weight of his presence pressing in on me even without looking, to feel the fragile thread that still connected us stretching to its limit.

Then I pulled.