The moment the apartment door clicked shut behind us, silence fell, thick, almost deafening.
The world outside ceased to exist.
I felt the echoes of the morning, the anxiety, the cold shoulder he had given me, dissipate in the tiny space of his apartment.
All I could focus on was him, and him only.
Ken's eyes met mine, wide and glimmering with unshed tears.
I'd never seen him so raw, so vulnerable. Usually, he was calm, collected, the quiet anchor in my stormy world.
But now… now he looked as if the world had tilted under his feet, and I was the only thing keeping him from falling completely.
"Ysabelle…" His voice shook, soft, trembling. "Please… just—"
I moved closer, instinctively, heart hammering, my hands brushing against his chest.
I could feel the heat radiating from him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through his scrubs. My tears were unrelenting now, but they didn't feel shameful.
They felt… right. Necessary.
"Tell me that you love me," he said, voice low, breaking under the weight of emotion.
I choked on the words, my lips trembling as I struggled to catch my breath.
But then, the truth came spilling out, raw and unfiltered:
"Yes… I love you. Only you."
Ken's hands went to my face, thumbs brushing away the tears streaking my cheeks.
His gaze searched mine, seeking some sign of hesitation, some remnant of the cold distance I sometimes wore like armor.
There was none.
Only the honesty of a heart finally willing to speak.
He stepped closer, our breaths mingling. "Tell me that you don't want anyone else," he whispered, voice cracking, fragile.
"Yes… only you. No one else," I sobbed, letting the emotion shake me to my core.
The tension in my body, the fear that I might lose him again, that I might falter, crumbled under the weight of his love.
Then he paused, taking a trembling breath. "And… tell me you won't ever do what you did earlier," he said softly, his words heavy with both hurt and hope. "When you… went to Drake. Don't lie to me."
I bowed my head, letting my tears fall freely, hot and relentless. "I… yes. I won't. I shouldn't have… I didn't feel anything. I…" My voice caught. "It's you. Only you, Ken. Only ever you."
The room seemed to shrink around us, the walls pressing in as we clung together.
I felt every shiver, every tremor, every broken piece of my soul finally find its anchor.
Ken's arms held me like he'd never let go, and in that moment, I didn't want him to.
I tilted my face up, meeting his gaze, and pressed my lips to his.
Tentative at first, trembling like our hearts were still trying to find a steady rhythm, but then deeper, consuming, urgent, as if trying to erase every moment of doubt, every misstep, every cold morning that had come before.
He kissed me back fiercely, arms wrapping around me, grounding me in a way I hadn't realized I craved so desperately.
My tears soaked into his shirt, my hands clinging to his shoulders, my heart pounding in tandem with his.
Breathing ragged, eyes red and glistening with tears, I realized how fragile, how fragile and delicate this moment was, yet how solid it felt.
Like coming home after a lifetime of wandering.
"I love you," he whispered, barely audible, and I repeated it back, my voice trembling but unwavering:
"I love you… only you. Always only you."
I let myself sink into him completely, letting my emotions bleed into the safety of his arms.
He murmured soft things into my hair, tiny words that didn't need repeating: I've got you… I'm here… never letting go…
And I believed him.
For the first time in months, I let myself breathe fully.
My body wasn't tense anymore, my mind not racing with "what ifs." I realized something terrifying and beautiful, my heart had chosen.
It wasn't about Drake, it wasn't about the past, and it wasn't about fame, or walls, or fear.
It was him.
Only him.
We stayed like that for hours.
Time seemed suspended.
We didn't talk much, just whispered occasionally, our words punctuated by quiet laughter or soft sobs.
I let my head fall against his chest, listening to the comforting thrum of his heartbeat.
I traced his collarbone, memorizing the feel of him, memorizing this closeness I had always secretly longed for.
I felt safe.
And that safety wasn't empty.
It was full. Full of warmth, full of trust, full of a love that didn't demand performance or perfection.
Ken shifted slightly, hands still cradling my face. "Ysabelle," he whispered, voice low, raw. "You're mine. Just tell me you feel the same every day, and we'll figure the rest out together."
"Yes," I sobbed softly, smiling through tears. "Every day. Only you, Ken. Always only you."
The hours passed quietly, our bodies tangled together on the sofa, sharing the kind of closeness that words couldn't touch.
I let myself finally feel it, everything.
Relief, love, warmth, longing, safety.
And with each heartbeat, each shared breath, I felt like I had come home.
Ken kissed the top of my head, his lips brushing my hairline. "We're okay now," he whispered.
"Yes," I murmured back, voice barely audible, clinging to him like I might never get the chance again. "We're okay. Only you."
And in that embrace, I knew it, finally, irrevocably, we were no longer just two people walking side by side. We were a "we."