Two days later, Debbie found herself sitting across
from Pasco in a quiet café in Phnom Penh. He had
come to see her after she responded to his message,agreeing to meet and talk.
Pasco looked di erent—older, sharper, yet somehow softer in his demeanor. He stirred his coffee absentmindedly, his eyes searching hers.
"I didn't think you'd actually agree to see me," Pasco said, breaking the silence.
"I didn't either," Debbie admitted. "But your message… it brought back a lot of things I thought I'd buried."
Pasco sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I'm sorry,
Debbie. For everything. For leaving, for ghosting you, for all the hurt I caused. I was a coward back then. I didn't know how to handle the distance, the pressure, or even my own feelings."
Debbie frowned, her hands curling around her cup.
"And now? What's changed?"
Pasco hesitated, his gaze dropping to the table. "I've changed. I've had time to think about everything, about us. And I realized… I never stopped loving you."
Debbie's breath caught. She had dreamed of hearing those words for years, but now that they were spoken, they felt heavy with complications.
"Pasco," she began, her voice trembling, "I loved you so much. I gave you everything I could, and you left me like I didn't matter. How do I trust that won't happen again?"
Pasco reached across the table, his hand hovering over hers. "I can't promise I won't make mistakes. But I can promise you that I'll never run away again. I'll fight for us this time, Debbie."
Her heart warred with her mind. She wanted to believe him, to give them a second chance. But the scars he'd left weren't easy to forget.
"Then prove it," Debbie said finally, her voice firm. "If you really want this, show me. Words aren't enough."
Pasco nodded, determination flashing in his eyes. "I will. Whatever it takes. "