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You push just far enough

You shake the ground beneath my feet

But you never make it rough

You don’t shrink when I’m uncertain

You don’t fade when I’m afraid

You stay right where I can see you

Like harmony unplayed

You don’t break to prove devotion

You don’t disappear for me

You just stand there in the daylight

Like the man you choose to be

If I let the walls come down

Will you still be standing there?

Not because you have to stay

But because you choose to care

You don’t want a collar

You don’t want a chain

You want truth in my hands

And my voice in your name

You don’t kneel to disappear

You don’t stay out of fear

You stay because you choose

So I’m breaking every rule—and choosing you

His voice faded into the quiet room, his fingers stilled, and I let out a long breath.

I sat beside him on the piano bench and leaned into him.

Max turned his head and kissed my temple. “You told me once you always liked rules.” He chuckled. “I built my life around them. They were simple, too: no feelings, no staying, no Daddy, no entanglements, and no one got close enough to break me.” He looked me in the eye. “And I broke every one of them. Not recklessly or accidentally, but because I chose to.” He paused. “And for the first time in my life, breaking them didn’t feel like losing control.” He smiled. “It felt like coming home.”

My throat tightened. “The first time I saw you at Obsidian, you were standing apart, contained, observing the room but emotionally distant. I noticed you because you looked like a man the room bent around.” I slipped my hand into his.

Max glanced down, then back at me.

I smiled. “You’re not standing alone anymore.”