"Why won't you let me help?"
I opened my mouth—then paused.
Nothing came out.
She wasn't accusing me. She was asking from somewhere deep. A place where pride had been set aside. This wasn't about ego. It was about trust.
"You do everything by yourself," she continued, voice soft but heavy. "Every decision. Every risk. Every burden this clan carries... it ends up on your back."
She took a breath, exhaling slow. Her tone dropped to barely more than a whisper.
"Why won't you let us carry some of it too?"
Her free hand rose, pressing against my chest—right over the heart that was starting to ache more than I wanted to admit.
"The burden is too heavy," I murmured, meeting her eyes. "It might crush you."
As much as I wanted to lean on them—on her—what held me back was fear.
Not fear of failure.
Fear of loss.
