SERAPHINA’S POV
I stayed with Jack long enough to feel the weight of his words settle in the air between us.
His presence, usually steady—an anchor when everything else was uncertain—now felt too close. Too bright. Like a flame held near skin already burned too many times.
I could still hear the echo of my mother’s voice from earlier, still feel the hollow space where my family’s rejection had landed and stayed, and now Jack’s certainty—his promise, his claim—pressed against that same wound in a way I did not know how to bear.
“I think I need to rest,” I said quietly.
Jack studied me for a moment, his expression shifting as though he wanted to argue, as though he wanted to close the distance between us with something firmer than patience.
But in the end, he only nodded.
“Of course,” he said softly. “I’ll be nearby if you need me.”
I managed a faint smile—awkward, uncertain, barely mine—and turned away quickly, needing distance before doubt could take hold.
