Jared ended the call, his gaze resting on Jerica's peaceful face. Her chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, completely oblivious to the storm of emotions churning inside him. Without thinking, he moved closer, kneeling beside the bed.
The room was bathed in a soft, muted glow, the evening light casting long shadows across the floor. He gently lifted her hand, cradling it in his, and placed it on her cheek. His larger hand covered hers, holding it in place as if he could draw strength from her even in her sleep.
He didn't say a word, but the apology filled the space between them—an unspoken plea for forgiveness. For everything he had failed to be. For every lie, every moment of distance, every misstep that had led them to this place.
The weight of his confusion, his guilt, pressed down on him, and for a few minutes, he let himself be still as if her touch could somehow make sense of the chaos in his heart.
