His eyes searched hers. "You think I ran because I didn't care?" he said quietly. His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping as if the truth itself irritated him.
"I ran because if I stayed....," he continued, voice roughening, not breaking but tightening around something raw, "I wouldn't recognize myself anymore."
He exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled. He leaned in just enough for her to feel the heat of him, for his presence to press against her space.
His gaze dropped not to her lips, not to her face, but to her hand. Still caught in the aftermath of his grip. Kai released her hand, but not all at once.
His fingers loosened slowly, reluctantly, as though letting cost him something. Even as her hand should have slipped free, his fingertips lingered, tracing the lines of her palm with a pressure so light it felt intentional and dangerous
His eyes dropped to where they were still connected. One finger moved first. It slid along the inside of her wrist, slow enough that Alina felt every inch of the motion. The touch sent a quiet shiver up her arm, and she hated herself for how immediately her body responded. His fingers followed the length of her forearm, unhurried, unclaimed—just exploration.
When his hand reached her shoulder, he paused as if asking a question that he refused to voice. Then, just as slowly, his fingers began their descent again—dragging lightly over the curve of her shoulder, down her arm, retracing the path he had taken, but this time with more weight and more intention. The back of his fingers brushed against her skin, grazing, lingering.
Alina's breath hitched, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she stepped closer. The movement was subtle, but Kai felt it immediately: the distance between them closing, her body aligning with his. Her hand, still near his, shifted deliberately, turning so her palm faced his again. Inviting.
His gaze darkened. He let his hand settle over hers, covering it fully this time. The back of his palm pressed against her knuckles. It was warm and steady. His thumb brushed over her skin once, then again, but this time more slowly and thoughtfully as if he were learning her.
Alina's fingers curled around his instinctively, holding him closer before he could decide to pull away. Kai inhaled sharply.
His fingers responded without permission—sliding between hers, one by one, weaving into the spaces she willingly made for him. When their hands finally locked together, palm to palm, fingers interlaced, the contact felt electric and too intimate.
They were standing impossibly close now. Close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath. Close enough that the space between them no longer existed. Their joined hands lifted slightly between them—not to break the contact, but to acknowledge it, to feel it.
Alina looked up at him. Kai met her gaze. The eye contact was devastating. No anger. No defiance. Just heat. Just truth. Just everything they were refusing to name. His thumb pressed gently against her knuckles, grounding, possessive, without claiming. Her fingers tightened around his in response, as if anchoring herself to him. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved.
Kai's left hand lifted slowly, as though even the air resisted the movement. His fingers didn't even hesitate for half a second before he reached her face. The moment his palm touched her cheek, Alina felt it everywhere. The warmth of his skin seeped into hers instantly, steady and overwhelming, as it had always belonged there.
He didn't cup her face fully, not yet. His thumb rested just beneath her cheekbone, his fingers along her jaw, gentle but certain. The touch wasn't rushed. It wasn't careless. It was reverent, as if he were afraid that too much pressure might shatter the moment entirely.
They didn't break eye contact; they couldn't. The world narrowed again—no bridge, no night air, no city breathing around them. Just the space between their faces, heavy and charged, filled with breaths they didn't realize they were holding.
Alina felt his gaze move over her face slowly, not possessively, not hungrily. Like he was memorizing her, like he needed to understand what she did to him. His thumb barely.
It brushed along her cheek in the softest arc, sending a shiver down her spine. Her lashes fluttered, but she kept her eyes open, locked onto his, as if looking away would give him the excuse to stop.
His right hand, which was still intertwined with hers, loosened slowly and reluctantly. His fingers slid free of hers, lingering for just a second longer than necessary, before drifting down, tracing the line of her wrist, her forearm, the curve of her elbow. Every inch of the movement felt intentional, unhurried, as though he were testing how far he could go without losing himself completely.
When his hand reached her waist, he stopped. Then he tightened his grip. Not hard. Firm enough to anchor. With one smooth motion, he pulled her closer—guiding her forward, his hand settling against the small of her back. The distance between them vanished. Her body aligned with his, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him, close enough that her breath brushed against his chest.
Alina inhaled sharply. Kai felt it. His jaw tightened. He stepped closer still, until there was no space left to close. Her back pressed lightly against his hand, his palm warm and steady, holding her there—not trapping, not forcing, just refusing to let her drift away.
Her breathing faltered, and His did too. The sound of it filled the silence—uneven, shared, dangerously loud. His thumb slid higher along her cheek, grazing the corner of her mouth. The contact was light. Barely there. But it shattered something in her.
Her eyes fluttered shut without permission, her lashes brushing her cheeks as if her body had already decided what her mind was still fighting. She tilted her face just slightly into his touch, the movement unconscious, instinctive.
Kai froze for half a heartbeat. Then he leaned in. Slowly. So slowly it felt unbearable. He watched her face as he did—watched the way her lips parted, watched the faint tension in her brow, watched the vulnerability she never offered anyone else. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, tracing its shape gently, from one corner to the other, as if committing the sensation to memory.
Her breath hitched. There was no gap left between them now. No air. No escape. Her forehead almost touched his. His nose brushed against hers. His breath mingled with hers, warm and unsteady, carrying everything he refused to say.
His lips hovered just above hers. One breath away. One movement. One surrender. His heart was pounding so loudly he was certain she could feel it through his chest. Every instinct screamed at him to close the distance—to end the ache, to claim the moment, to stop fighting something that had already won. He leaned closer. Closer. The space between their lips narrowed to nothing. And then—