I didn't sleep that night.
No matter how hard I tried, my mind replayed his voice—If I tell you now, you might hate me. The words curled around my thoughts like a warning and an invitation at the same time.
By morning, I had already decided something dangerous.
I was going to meet him.
The café Daniel chose was small and quiet, tucked away from the busy road. The kind of place people went when they didn't want to be overheard—or seen. My stomach twisted as I pushed the door open.
He was already there.
Sitting by the window, hands wrapped tightly around a cup of untouched coffee, eyes fixed on the door like he'd been waiting all night. When he saw me, he stood up so quickly his chair scraped the floor.
"You came," he said, relief flooding his face.
"I didn't say I came to forgive you," I replied, taking the seat opposite him.
He nodded slowly. "I wouldn't expect that."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence was thick, uncomfortable—heavy with years of unspoken words.
"I never planned to disappear," he began quietly. "But things happened… things I didn't know how to explain without destroying everything."
I crossed my arms. "You destroyed everything anyway."
Pain flickered in his eyes. "I know."
He took a deep breath, like a man preparing to confess a crime.
"The night before I left," he said, "someone came to see me."
My heart skipped. "Who?"
"Your father."
The room tilted.
"My—what?" I whispered.
"He told me to stay away from you," Daniel continued, his voice steady but strained. "Said I wasn't good enough. Said I would ruin your future."
Anger flared inside me. "That doesn't explain why you vanished."
"I didn't listen at first," he admitted. "But then he showed me something."
My fingers dug into my palms. "Showed you what?"
Daniel reached into his jacket and pulled out an old, folded envelope. The edges were worn, like he'd carried it everywhere.
"I was paid," he said, his voice breaking. "To leave you."
The words slammed into my chest.
"Paid?" I repeated, disbelief choking me.
"He said if I loved you, I'd walk away," Daniel continued. "Said you deserved someone better. Someone stable. Someone who wouldn't drag you into his mess."
I stood up abruptly, chair screeching against the floor. "So you took the money and disappeared?"
"No," he said quickly, standing too. "I never touched it. I left because I was scared—scared that staying would hurt you more."
Tears burned my eyes. "You decided my pain for me."
"I was wrong," he whispered. "Every day without you proved that."
I shook my head, fighting the urge to cry. "You should've trusted me."
"I know," he said softly. "That's why I came back."
My heart skipped again. "Came back?"
"There's more," he said, lowering his voice. "What your father didn't tell you… is that he was right about one thing."
My throat tightened. "About what?"
Daniel met my eyes, guilt and fear swirling in his gaze.
"I was already in trouble," he admitted. "The kind that follows you. The kind that doesn't let go."
A chill ran down my spine.
"What kind of trouble, Daniel?"
He swallowed hard.
"The kind that could still hurt you… if you stay too close to me."
Outside, thunder rolled—low and threatening.
And suddenly, I understood why loving Daniel had never just been about the heart.
It had always been about survival.