Chapter 18 — Walls Falling
The city lights spilled through the tall windows of Mara's apartment, painting golden rectangles across the floor. Outside, the world moved on, oblivious, but inside, time slowed — each tick of the clock heavy, deliberate, like it had been waiting for this moment.
Mara sat curled on the couch, knees tucked under her chin, sketchbook closed and forgotten. Milo lingered beside her, quiet but impossible to ignore. He didn't rush her. He didn't force questions. He just waited, patient, as if the rhythm of her breathing and the subtle tension in her shoulders told him everything he needed to know.
"I…" she began, voice shaky, unsure where to start. "I've never… trusted someone like this. Not fully. Not in a long time."
Milo leaned closer, careful not to crowd her. "You can take all the time you need," he said softly. "I'll wait. I don't care how long it takes."
Mara swallowed hard, the knot in her chest twisting tighter. She had spent years running, hiding pieces of herself, pushing people away before they could see the fractures. And yet here was Milo — calm, patient, unwavering. Someone who wanted to stay.
"My past…" she started again, voice trembling. "It's… complicated. I've made choices I'm not proud of. People I left… people who left me. I've hurt and been hurt. I've learned to survive alone."
Milo's gaze never wavered. He reached out slowly, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. "Mara," he said softly, "you're not alone anymore. You don't have to survive alone. I'll be here. Always."
Her heart pounded. The honesty in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, the unspoken promise behind every word — it undid a little of the armor she had built around herself.
She let herself breathe, small and hesitant. Milo's hand remained near hers, patient, steady. And for the first time in years, she felt the possibility of letting someone in without fear.
"I'm scared," she admitted finally, voice almost a whisper. "I don't want to get close and lose it all again."
Milo's hand found hers this time, fingers intertwining naturally. "You won't," he said firmly. "I'm not going anywhere. Not for anyone. Not for anything."
Tears pricked at Mara's eyes. She wanted to hide them, but Milo didn't look away. He didn't flinch. He just held her hand, letting her feel that she was seen, valued, and wanted.
And in that moment, Mara felt a wall inside her shift. Not crumble entirely — not yet — but a small piece of it fell away, enough for her to realize that love didn't have to be fearsome or fleeting. Love could be gentle, steady, patient. And Milo was proof of that.
She leaned slightly into him, just enough to feel the warmth of his shoulder. He didn't pull back. He let her. And for a brief, shining moment, Mara understood what it felt like to be safe in someone else's presence — to trust without reservation, to hope without fear.
The rain outside softened into a quiet drizzle, a soft background to the storm of emotions inside. And as Milo held her hand, Mara realized something she hadn't allowed herself to admit: she wanted him. Not just his presence, but his care, his patience, his honesty, his protection. She wanted him entirely.
Milo noticed the shift in her posture, the way her hand lingered in his. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You don't have to say anything," he whispered. "Actions are louder than words anyway."
And as Mara rested her head lightly against his shoulder, the weight of years of solitude and fear lifted — just enough for something new, fragile, and beautiful to take root between them.