Morning arrived quietly, slipping through the curtains in pale streaks of gold. It should have been peaceful. A new day. A fresh start.

  But the air felt wrong.

  Ethan woke before Sofia, staring at the ceiling with a tightness in his chest he couldn’t explain—not fear, not pain, but something in between, something heavy and familiar. The kind of weight soldiers carried after the adrenaline drained and silence filled the battlefield.

  Sofia stirred beside him, her hair falling across her face in soft waves. She looked peaceful. Beautiful. And fragile in a way that terrified him.

  He turned away from her, sitting up slowly.

  He didn’t want her to see his expression.

  Not this morning.

  Not like this.

  He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to steady his breathing. The night had given him comfort, but mornings were treacherous. Mornings demanded clarity. Mornings asked questions he wasn’t ready to answer.

  Who am I now?

  What do I give?

  What do I deserve?

  He felt hollow.

  Sofia’s voice came softly from behind him. “Ethan?”

  He froze.

  “I’m awake,” he said quietly.

  She sat up, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, her cheek pressed between his shoulder blades. “You left the bed too quickly. Are you okay?”

  He wanted to say yes. He wanted to turn and kiss her forehead and pretend everything was easy.

  But lies felt like poison on his tongue.

  He gently removed her hands.

  Sofia’s heart sank a little.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

  Ethan didn’t answer immediately. He stood, walked to the window, and leaned his hands on the sill. His shoulders looked tense—too tense. Sofia watched him carefully.

  Last night he had let her in.

  This morning he was shutting down again.

  “Ethan,” she whispered, “don’t disappear on me.”

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  He exhaled sharply. “I’m not disappearing.”

  “But you’re pulling away.”

  “I’m thinking,” he said, his voice clipped.

  Sofia stood from the bed and walked toward him, stopping a few feet behind, giving him space but refusing to be shut out.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  He didn’t turn around.

  “How long this lasts.”

  Sofia felt her stomach twist. “What do you mean?”

  “How long,” he repeated slowly, “before you wake up and realize you made the wrong choice.”

  Her breath hitched.

  Ethan finally turned to face her—and the emptiness in his eyes scared her more than any argument could.

  “You gave up an international opportunity for someone who doesn’t even know what he is anymore,” he said quietly. “That’s not fair to you.”

  “Ethan—”

  “And I can’t let you do that,” he continued. “Not when I might not be… good for you.”

  Good for you.

  Not worthy.

  Not enough.

  Sofia took a shaky breath. “Are you… breaking up with me?”

  “No,” he said quickly, voice strained. “I’m trying to protect you.”

  Her voice cracked. “I don’t need protection from loving you.”

  He swallowed hard and looked away.

  “That’s the problem,” he whispered.

  Sofia stepped closer. “Look at me.”

  He didn’t.

  “Ethan,” she said again, firmer this time. “Look at me.”

  Slowly, painfully, he lifted his gaze.

  She cupped his face with both hands, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

  “You think I stayed because I pitied you?” she asked softly. “Because you needed help? Because you’re fragile?”

  His jaw tightened.

  “You’re not fragile,” she whispered. “You’re hurt. And you’re scared. That’s different.”

  He closed his eyes.

  “And if you think pushing me away will make me safer, you’re wrong. It will only break us.”

  He swallowed hard. “Sofia, I don’t know if I can give you the version of me you deserve.”

  “I didn’t fall in love with a version. I fell in love with you.”

  Something in him cracked.

  But the fracture didn’t heal.

  It widened.

  “Love doesn’t fix broken things,” he whispered.

  Sofia took a step back, hurt slicing through her chest. “Do you think I’m trying to fix you?”

  A pause.

  Too long.

  Too sharp.

  Her breath trembled.

  “You do,” she whispered. “You actually think I’m here to rearrange you into something better.”

  Ethan’s silence answered for him.

  Sofia’s voice came out small. “Ethan… that’s not why I’m here.”

  He sank onto the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

  “I just don’t want you to regret this,” he said, voice cracking. “And I’m terrified I’m going to drag you down with me.”

  Sofia stood still—aching, but steady. “You won’t.”

  But Ethan looked up at her, eyes tired and haunted. “I already am.”

  Before she could respond, a knock came at the door.

  Three slow taps.

  Camila.

  Sofia wiped her eyes quickly.

  Ethan straightened but didn’t speak.

  Camila opened the door slightly. “Can I come in?”

  Sofia nodded.

  Camila stepped inside and instantly sensed the tension—Ethan’s stormy eyes, Sofia’s trembling breath, the distance between them.

  She exhaled slowly.

  “Is this about the Florence decision?” she asked gently.

  Sofia shook her head. “No. Not exactly.”

  Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just trying to make sure she doesn’t make a mistake.”

  Camila sighed. “Ethan, stop.” Her tone wasn’t harsh—but firm, almost painfully honest. “This is exactly why I warned you both. You’re pushing her away because you feel unworthy. That’s not protection. That’s fear.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Ethan said.

  Camila gave him a look that said don’t lie to me.

  Sofia sat beside Ethan gently but didn’t touch him.

  Camila continued, “You spent years building your identity on skill, discipline, strength, control. The military stripped all that away overnight. Of course you’re scared. Of course you feel lost. Anyone would.”

  Ethan stared at the floor.

  “But don’t punish her for staying,” Camila said softly.

  Silence settled—thick and suffocating.

  Finally, Ethan whispered, “I don’t want her to resent me.”

  Sofia’s voice trembled as she spoke. “The only thing I will resent is you not letting me choose you.”

  His breath hitched.

  His eyes lifted to hers.

  And something small—very small—softened in his expression.

  Sofia reached out, taking his hand gently this time, giving him the chance to pull away.

  He didn’t.

  For the first time that morning, he didn’t.

  Camila watched them quietly, then stepped back toward the door.

  “Take your time,” she murmured. “But don’t let fear be the thing that decides your relationship.”

  The door closed behind her.

  Silence again—but now it felt different.

  Heavier, but closer.

  Sofia turned to Ethan.

  “Please stop pulling away every time you feel unworthy,” she whispered. “Let me stay. Let me love you. Not because you’re perfect. Not because you’re strong. But because you’re you.”

  Ethan looked at her for a long time—really looked.

  Then he exhaled, defeated.

  “I don’t know if I can be the man you deserve,” he said.

  “You already are,” she whispered.

  His eyes glistened.

  Sofia squeezed his hand.

  “You don’t have to be perfect,” she said softly. “You just have to show up.”

  Ethan nodded slowly.

  “I can try,” he whispered.

  It wasn’t a promise.

  But it wasn’t a retreat.

  It was the first step.

  And neither of them knew that tonight—

  the second fracture would come.

  Sharper.

  Deeper.

  From something Ethan couldn't control.

  Something his mind had been holding back for too long.