...
The room fell into a heavy silence. Outside, the rain had just stopped, leaving only the rhythmic drip-drip against the windowsill. The biting mountain air crept in through the gap under the door, making me grateful for the heavy jacket I was still wearing.
The only sound between us was the unsteady hitch in your breath—soft and trembling. You just kept your head down. I noticed your lips; the warm, terracotta-tinted lipstick you always wore—the only thing you ever needed to keep from looking pale—was almost entirely gone. Only a faint, smudged stain remained, making you look even more fragile under the dim light. As I leaned closer, the clean scent of your soap mingled with the cold air.
I took a long, shaky breath, and in that moment, I realized how foolish I must have sounded—giving speeches about diamonds and pebbles when you could barely find the strength to look up. I pulled my hand back awkwardly, shoving it deep into my jacket pocket.
But then, you reached out.
Your fingers gripped my hand so tight, your knuckles turning white, as if I were the only thing keeping you from drifting away. As you pulled me closer, the scent of sandalwood clinging to my jacket wrapped around us like a silent promise.
"I want to believe you," you whispered, your voice small and hollow. You finally looked at me, and your eyes were so empty it hurt more than any tear could. A small, tired smile flickered on your face—the kind that didn’t even try to reach your eyes.
"But after everything... I don't know what to do with a label like 'diamond.' It feels safer to stay a pebble. At least down there, no one expects me to shine. At least down there, I can't be broken again."
...