Ch10. That Sentence in the Rain

The moment Anna heard that he was looking for someone, her body trembled. For some reason, a strange ache rose inside her chest.

“This person must be very important…” She spoke lightly. Then straightened again, restoring the distance that had narrowed between them. “I hope you find them soon.”

After saying it, she unconsciously bit her lower lip. So lightly it was barely noticeable. “Addie said she was going to prepare tea. Why is she taking so long? I’ll go call her.”

She stood, preparing to leave the room. She wanted to get away for a moment. To settle the sour feeling inside her that had come from nowhere.

Seven years.

He had searched for seven years. He must care very deeply. Jeffery spoke the moment she rose.

“Anna.” Only her name. Very softly. But precisely. It fell between the motion of her standing and the step she was about to take. Like a thin thread.

Not stopping her. Only tugging gently. He waited for her to stop. Or turn around. Or both. Then he continued. His voice was low. Direct in a way it had not been all morning. “The person I’m looking for…” He paused for a long moment. “Isn’t someone else.” He said nothing more. He simply left the sentence there.

There, while her back was still turned to him. There, inside that faint ache she herself had not yet understood. His amber eyes rested quietly on her back. Steady. Certain. Like a man who had waited seven years and had finally placed the answer where it belonged. Anna stopped in front of the door.

Her hand, already reaching toward the handle, froze. Not someone else? What did that mean? Someone she knew?

“Who is it?” She paused. Then turned around and gave Jeffery a gentle smile.

“If it’s someone I know, maybe I can help.” Jeffery watched her turn. Watched that gentle smile. Watched her say: Maybe I can help. He remained silent for a very long time.

Long enough that the gentleness of her smile slowly became uncertain. He did not stand. He simply sat there. Looking at her with those amber eyes. Quietly. Directly. Then he spoke.

His voice softer than anything he had said all morning. Yet clearer than any of it. “You.” Only one word. He did not explain the dreams. Did not explain the seven years. Did not explain the blurred silhouette that had followed him through every one of those years without ever showing its face.

Did not explain that morning on the tower—

the moment he crouched beside her and saw something in her eyes, and his heart gave one hard beat. He simply placed: You. There between them. Steady. Certain. Like something he had already confirmed long ago. Only now— he was finally saying it aloud.

His amber eyes remained on her face. Waiting for that gentle smile to slowly understand what the word meant.

Anna’s right foot moved back an entire step to steady herself. “Huh?” Nothing more. Nothing less. That was all she managed.

The moment Jeffery saw her step backward— the moment that tiny “huh?” left her mouth—

he held it in. He tried very hard.

With every bit of restraint he had. He pushed the urge to laugh all the way down into the deepest part of his chest. But the line of his mouth still betrayed him. Only slightly. The corner lifted by the smallest degree. He lowered his head. Pressed his thumb against the corner of his mouth as though thinking. Hiding the curve there.

He stayed silent for two seconds. Then raised his head again. His expression had returned to calm. Only the outer corners of his eyes still held a faint warmth he had not completely managed to suppress. He did not repeat himself. Did not explain.

He merely looked calmly at her standing by the door after having taken one full step backward. “Do you need to step back any farther?” His voice was soft. There was no mockery in it.

Only the kind of warmth that escaped when someone witnessed something so rare and so genuine that it became impossible to hide completely. He waited. Waited for Anna to finish putting all the pieces together.

He had been worried about how she was doing.

He had gone with Addie to buy pastries for her.

He had stayed in the eastern district ever since the first time they met.

He had said the person he had searched for for seven years was her.

She was the reason he could not leave.

That was why Addie had kept hinting at something.

And when Anna finally understood all of it—

her face turned red. Then, because she had absolutely no idea what to do with herself— she turned around. Opened the door. Ran out. And shut it behind her. A little too quickly. A little too loudly. Leaving Jeffery alone in the room.

But she did not actually leave. She stopped just outside. Her back pressed against the door. Her heart was racing.

So fast she could not control it. The sound of the door closing shook through the room. Jeffery remained seated. Staring at it. Silent for exactly three seconds. Then he lowered his head. Rested his elbows on his knees. Interlaced his fingers. Pressed his joined thumbs against his lips. Closed his eyes. And let that urge to laugh move once around his chest.

Then twice.

He laughed. Very softly. Very low. The sound remained trapped inside his chest. But his shoulders moved slightly. Betraying him. It was a laugh even he had not expected. Something real. Something warm.

Something that had risen from a place so deep inside him that he could not have explained it if he tried.

She ran away. He lowered his face into his joined hands. Took a deep breath. Pressed the smile down until most of it was under control. Then sat upright again. Looked at the door.

He had not heard footsteps moving away. He knew. She was still standing outside. His eyes lowered to the letter opener on the low table. He stayed silent for a while. Then spoke. His voice was low.

Just loud enough to pass through the door. “I’m not going anywhere.” He paused. “You didn’t have to shut the door that hard.” Outside the door, Anna heard Jeffery’s voice.

Her heart gave one violent beat. Flustered, she reached toward her chest— and struck the door handle instead. “Oh… ow…” She rubbed the reddening spot near her wrist.

A passing servant looked at her once.

Then kept walking. No one asked what had happened. So— he had been looking for her. What did that mean? Jeffery heard the small impact from the other side of the door. Then her quiet hiss of pain. The crease between his brows shifted slightly. He stood. Not impulsively. Simply naturally. Like instinct. He walked to the door. Stopped on his side of it. Rested his hand lightly on the handle. But did not open it immediately.

Instead he spoke. His voice low. And this time, the concern in it was completely unhidden. “Where did you hit yourself?” There was no answer from the other side. He did not rush her. He simply waited.

Then rested his forehead lightly against the door. The wood was cool.

He let the cold press against the heat that had been burning inside his chest for far too long. He imagined what expression she must be making right now. It was probably very beautiful. He suppressed the thought. Cleared his throat. Then spoke again. His tone was gentler than before. A softness he himself probably had not noticed.

“You’re standing in front of the door.” “I can’t get out either.”

He paused. Then added, as softly as a breath, “Come in.” “Or I’ll come out.” “You choose.”

Hearing his voice so close behind the door, Anna knew he had come nearer. But if she opened it— she would have to face him directly. And if she did not— he would open it himself. The result was the same.

The only difference was whether someone in the castle would notice something strange. Technically, Jeffery had entered the palace under the false identity of a tailor.

If he opened the door and came outside to pull her back in— that would look even stranger if anyone saw. “No.”

Her voice shook with embarrassment. “You can’t come out.” “I’ll go in…”

Her palm was damp against the handle.

She turned it. But did not push the door open immediately. Through the narrow gap, she saw Jeffery’s shadow. She paused. Then— his scent. She could smell him. Her heartbeat accelerated again.

Jeffery heard: I’ll go in. He stepped away from the door. Half a pace. Giving her room. But he did not move far. He remained there. Quietly waiting for the narrow gap to widen. The door opened a fraction.

He lowered his eyes. Looked directly through it. Saw the side of her figure standing there. Saw the faint red mark the handle had left on the back of her hand. Saw that she did not push the door open immediately. He did not hurry her.

But inside his chest, something loosened at the exact moment the gap widened.

Like a string held taut for far too long finally easing by half a degree. Silently. He let out a breath. Very softly. Almost soundlessly. Then the door opened. Jeffery stood one step away. He did not move. His amber eyes travelled downward over her.

From the hand still holding the door handle. To her slightly lowered face. To the obvious flush at the roots of her ears. He saw all of it. Everything. But he said nothing. He simply stood there quietly. Keeping the curve of his mouth perfectly flat. Making himself look as though nothing had happened at all. “Come in.”

His voice was extremely soft. But perfectly clear. His gaze moved to her wrist.

To the reddened place where she had struck the handle. Something shifted in his eyes. “Let me see.” Anna noticed the red mark on her hand. For a moment, she wanted to hide it behind her back. “It’s nothing…” She stepped into the room. So close she nearly brushed against Jeffery’s chest.

With her other hand, she gently closed the door. She had intended to hide the injured one. Instead— she held it out to him.

Her lips pushed forward slightly.

“I just hit it by accident…” She was pouting. Without knowing she was pouting. Like a daughter seeking comfort from her father.

Or a woman unconsciously seeking affection from the man she loved. She did not realize it. Jeffery froze when she held out her hand. Only for half a second. So brief it was almost impossible to notice.

But the moment was real. The slight pout. The tone of: I just hit it by accident.

The completely natural way she placed her hand into his reach.

He had not expected any of it. In all seven years— in every version of her he had imagined, every version of her he had seen in dreams— there had never been this one. And somehow— this version was harder to bear than all the others. He lowered his head. Quietly held back his breath. Then reached for her wrist. Two fingers settled lightly on either side of the bone. He turned the reddened place toward the light. His touch was extraordinarily gentle. As though holding something fragile.

His thumb moved slowly along the edge of the redness. Just once. Checking whether bruising had begun. Only then did he speak. His voice was low. Carefully level. But there was a crack inside that calmness. Something he could not quite suppress. “The skin isn’t broken.” He paused.

But did not release her. His gaze moved slowly upward from her wrist. To the flush that had not yet faded from her ears. To the slight pout still lingering at the corner of her mouth.

Then finally— to her eyes. His throat moved. That softness in her— the unconscious sweetness she herself had not noticed spilling out— went into the most vulnerable place in his chest like a needle.

Quietly. Precisely. So deeply that he did not dare move. He lowered his eyes. Hiding the heat in them. Something even he had not yet completely learned to control. His voice became softer. Almost as though he were speaking to himself. “Watch where you’re going next time.” “No, it wasn’t— it was…” Anna tried to explain.

She had not hit herself because she had not been looking.

Her heart had simply been beating too fast. So fast it had become difficult to breathe.

She had tried to press a hand to her chest—

and accidentally struck the handle instead. But if she said that— he would understand too much. “Oh…” “It’s nothing…” “Yes. Right…” “I’ll watch where I’m going next time…” So she simply agreed with him. Jeffery was still holding her hand. And she did not pull away. It was the first time they had truly touched each other.

Jeffery heard her swallow the unfinished explanation. He knew she had swallowed something. Not because he was especially clever.

Simply because his eyes had never left her. He saw the breath she took. Saw her begin to speak and stop. Saw the way she finally surrendered and followed his explanation instead. A tiny act of defeat. So natural. So easy to soften toward. He did not expose her. He merely lowered his head. His eyes resting on the place where they touched.

Her wrist.

His two fingers around the delicate bones. Seven years. How many dawns and evenings had he crossed?

How many nameless towns? How many nights had he seen her in dreams— only to wake with nothing in his hands? And now— the warmth of her skin rested beneath his fingertips. Real. So real that for one moment he forgot how breathing worked. His thumb did not move. He did not dare.

As though any movement might break the feeling that all of this was real. So he stayed exactly like that. Head lowered. Silent for a long time.

The room was so quiet that only distant voices from somewhere else in the palace drifted faintly through the walls.

Then he spoke. His voice a little rougher now. He probably did not notice. “Anna.” Her name. Not: you. Not: Princess. Only her name. Softly rolling from his throat. His fingers tightened around her wrist by the smallest degree.

Hearing him say her name— and knowing that only he called her Anna—

made her hand move slightly. A reaction to his voice. Her skin shifted against his palm. “Mm?” She answered. But she did not quite dare look directly at him. Because if she did— she was afraid she would forget how to breathe again.

Afraid those eyes would remain on her. And somehow make her feel strange all over. Her wrist moved slightly inside his hand. Only a tiny movement.

Only the faintest friction of skin against skin.

But Jeffery’s entire chest tightened at once. Like something had pulled sharply on a hidden cord. He did not speak immediately. First, he kept his head lowered. Looking at the hand she had not pulled away. At the red mark that had not completely faded from her wrist. Then— slowly— he raised his eyes.

She was not looking at him. He saw the angle of her face turned slightly away.

The curve of her eyelashes. The flush at the roots of her ears. Deeper now. Something she wanted to hide but could not. It simply spread across her skin. Visible at a glance. His heart gave one slow, heavy beat. Seven years. He had searched seven years.

So this was what finding her felt like. He did not ask her to look at him. He only shifted his hold. Naturally. Gently. From two fingers around her wrist— to his whole hand around hers. He enclosed her hand in his. Not tightly. But steadily. As though telling her something without saying a word.

After a moment of silence, he spoke. His tone remained even.

But there was a small fracture inside it. “You’re not looking at me.”

Not an accusation. Only an observation. A quiet fact he had noticed. But something in his voice was waiting. Those few simple words— You’re not looking at me— were enough to send Anna into panic again. Not looking at him did seem suspicious. But looking at him felt like suffocating. “I am.”

Her voice carried a trace of stubbornness. Slowly, she lifted her head. Her pale cheeks grew redder by the second. Even the rims of her eyes flushed faintly with embarrassment. So soft. So vivid. Almost painfully sweet to look at. Her gaze flickered. Then deliberately shifted toward the window. “It feels like…” “It might rain…” The moment Jeffery saw her lift her face, he went completely still.

As though something had fixed him in place. He simply stared. At the flush burning all over her face.

From her cheeks to the edges of her eyes.

Even the whites of her eyes held the faintest trace of pink. Like a flower warmed too long between two palms. So delicate that he no longer knew where to put his gaze. Then she looked toward the window. Jeffery lowered his head.

Pressed down whatever had nearly escaped from his chest. It might rain. She said it might rain. Slowly, he straightened. His gaze returned from the window. Settled on her profile. He watched her quietly for a moment.

The line of his mouth moved. Barely. Almost invisibly. He did not respond to the weather. Instead, his thumb stroked lightly over the back of her hand. Only once. Then his voice came low. Deliberately.

Like he had been waiting for this exact moment.

“Is your face this red because of the weather?” He waited. For her stubborn denial.

For her to say no. For her to keep avoiding his eyes. For every feeling she herself had not yet admitted— hidden in the color of her face, hidden in her racing heart. He had time. He had waited seven years.

He could wait longer. Red? Impossible. That was Anna’s immediate thought. “Is my face red?” She touched her cheek as naturally as she could. Yes. It was extremely warm. “Maybe… allergies.” Her voice stumbled. “Because it’s going to rain…” She invented the excuse on the spot. Whether it made any sense or not. Jeffery was silent for one second. Exactly one.

Then he laughed.

Actually laughed. He did not hold it back this time.

A soft, low sound rose from his chest. With a trace of tenderness he himself did not seem to notice. Fine lines appeared faintly at the corners of his eyes. As though some warmth had entered the amber light there and made it shine through. Allergic to rain.

He had heard many excuses in his life. Never that one. Jeffery lowered his head. Let the laugh roll once through his chest. Then looked up again. At her face— still hot.

Still red. Still desperately pretending nothing was wrong. His voice was roughened slightly by the smile that had not completely faded. “Rain makes your face red?” He knew exactly what she was doing. He knew the excuse made no sense. And yet he asked.

Deliberately. Simply because he wanted to see what she would say next. His thumb stopped moving on the back of her hand. But his palm remained wrapped around hers. He did not let go. He looked down at her. The warmth in his eyes impossible to hide. “Anna.” He paused. “I don’t believe you.”

Hearing him say he did not believe her, Anna lowered her head. And only then noticed— their hands were holding each other. She could feel the thick calluses on his palm and along his fingers. The marks of years spent gripping a sword.

She had seen the same thing on knights’ hands inside the palace. But she did not resist his.

That night in the study, while negotiating the conditions of her arranged marriage with her father, she had said that if Prince Geelong touched her body, she would die before allowing it. If Geelong touched her— he deserved to die. But Jeffery… She did not dislike it. Instead— she felt safe. “If you don’t believe me, what does that have to do with me…” She muttered quietly. But her fingers unconsciously squeezed one of his knuckles.

Jeffery felt it. That tiny pressure. Unconscious. So light she probably did not realize she had done it. But he felt it clearly.

It landed in his palm like a small stone sinking soundlessly into water. And through his entire chest— rings spread outward. One after another. Refusing to settle. He did not move. Because if he moved— she might realize what she had done. Then pull her hand away.

And he did not want her to pull away. He lowered his head. Looked at the hair falling beside her face. At her lowered profile. At the hand she had still not withdrawn.

The curve at the corner of his mouth took a long time to suppress. And still— he could not flatten it completely. His throat moved. He let out the heat inside his chest with one quiet breath. “It has something to do with you.” His voice was low.

Almost like an echo the room itself had created. Unhurried. But steady. “Your face is red because of me.” Very slowly— very gently—

his fingers returned the pressure. He enclosed the hand that had squeezed his knuckle fully inside his palm. Their fingers intertwined. Not tightly. But completely. Like some silent thing he himself could not decide was a declaration—

or a promise. His heartbeat was deep. Steady. Heavy.

For the first time in seven years—

he felt as though he were standing somewhere real. Their fingers intertwined. And at that moment— Anna felt something inside her fill. Her heart seemed heavier.

As though it had gained actual weight. Even Addie had never filled that place so completely. So heavily. What was this feeling? She wanted more contact with him. Wanted to speak with him more. There seemed to be so much time ahead. The light in the room dimmed as clouds gathered outside. Wind lifted the edge of the curtain. Carrying dampness with it. It really was going to rain. Jeffery remained where he was. Their fingers still joined. He said nothing. Did not move. He simply let the quiet settle slowly between them.

Until it became something steady. Something real. Something with weight. He could feel her hand. Her fingers were slender. Her palm far smaller than his. Enclosed in his, almost hidden entirely. But she did not pull away.

Her fingers rested loosely in his palm. Like a kind of unconscious trust she had not yet admitted even to herself. Inside his chest— something slowly loosened. Not tension. Not the release that came after danger. Something else. The kind of release that came after walking for a very long time— and finally being able to set down one’s pack. Jeffery slowly turned his head toward the gray-blue sky outside.

“There’s still a lot of time.”

His voice was soft. Almost casual. He paused.

Then brought his gaze back to her. “We can take our time getting to know each other.” His thumb moved slowly over the back of her hand. As though tracing a shape. As though confirming that something was still there. Outside— the first drop of rain fell. Then another. Then more. Soon the rain grew heavy. And it looked as though it would continue for a long time. “It’s raining…”

Anna spoke softly. “So you don’t have to hurry back…” She said it as though the thought were casual. But there was a trace of rare happiness beneath it. “I can ask Addie to prepare an empty room for you.” “If anyone asks, we can say the rain was too heavy and you stayed the night.” She smiled teasingly.

“The royal family would never turn away such an excellent ‘tailor.’” The instant Jeffery heard: You don’t have to hurry back— something in his chest gave a small leap. She had said it so casually. As though it were obvious. As though it meant very little. But he heard it.

He heard the tiny thread beneath the words. The rare trace of happiness she had not quite hidden. He lowered his eyes. Suppressed the urge to smile. Did not let it fully rise. Only the line of his mouth shifted upward slightly. When she called him a tailor, warmth spread through his eyes. A quiet amusement he himself did not seem to notice. “An excellent tailor.” He repeated the phrase under his breath.

As though tasting it. Then slowly turned his face toward her. Looked at her smiling. At that rare happiness still lingering on her face. He memorized it. Carefully. Placed the expression deep inside the same place that had held seven years’ worth of dreams. After a moment, he spoke. His voice low. Carrying a lightness he rarely allowed himself. “Then I’ll trouble the princess.” His gaze shifted toward the curtain of rain outside.

His thumb pressed gently against the back of her hand. “But…” He turned back to her. His amber eyes held something deep and steady. Quietly burning. “Even if it weren’t raining…” “I still wouldn’t be planning to leave.” Anna shook her head. “That’s difficult.”

Her voice carried helplessness. “My father doesn’t trust anyone.”

“And besides…” She paused. “Your identity as a tailor is only an act.” Then after another moment— “Maybe…” “You should pray the rain lasts a little longer.” Being allowed to stay because of the rain— that alone was already a luxury. Jeffery heard: That’s difficult. He heard what she said about her father trusting no one. About the false identity.

He did not argue. Everything she said was true. He understood better than anyone how thin his position inside this castle really was. Thin as paper. Easy to pierce. But none of that felt like a reason to retreat. He lowered his eyes. Looked at the dense curtain of rain outside.

Stayed silent for a while. Then spoke slowly. His voice was even. Carrying a depth of certainty she might not yet fully understand. “I searched for seven years.” He paused. “Not for one night’s lodging.” Then he turned toward her. His amber eyes were dark and steady in the fading light. Like amber holding fire inside it. Not burning violently. Only enduring. “Identities can change.” “Reasons can be found.” His fingers tightened very slightly around hers.

His voice dropped lower.

As though the next words belonged only to her. Something he had carried for seven years and could finally say.

“But wherever you are…” “That’s where I’ll be.” Outside, the rain fell harder. Jeffery did not pray for it to last.

He had never been a man waiting for rain.

Wherever you are, that’s where I’ll be. The words struck Anna directly in the heart.

As though something inside her was about to break open. Because she was inside the castle— he wanted to be here. Then if Jeffery were outside the castle—

what about her? Where should she be? “Why…?” Her voice was small.

Soft. “Why do you have to be with me…?” There was a humility in the question that did not resemble the hard princess everyone else described. Perhaps— his answer could help her find a different fate. Jeffery heard the question. Heard the softness in her voice.

The fragility. The humble tone so unlike her usual self. It went directly into the deepest part of his chest. So precisely that for one moment, he forgot to regulate his breathing. He remained silent for a long time. Not because he did not know the answer.

Because he had carried it inside himself for seven years. Had never spoken it aloud to anyone. And now— to bring it out fully— he needed a little time. Outside, the rain beat heavily against the stone. Against the windowsill. The entire world submerged in damp gray-blue. Slowly, Jeffery turned fully toward her. Lowered his head. Looked directly into her eyes.

Those eyes still faintly red from embarrassment. But now— serious. Waiting. His hand remained intertwined with hers. He did not loosen it. Then he spoke. His voice low. Steady. Each word seeming to rise from somewhere very deep inside him. “Because before I found you…” “I dreamed of you every night.” He paused. “I didn’t know your name.”

“I didn’t know your face.” “I didn’t know where you were.” His throat moved. The fire in his eyes deepened. “But I knew that person existed.” His thumb pressed gently against the back of her hand. “So I walked for seven years.” Then his voice became softer than anything else he had said that evening. And heavier. “Anna…”

“You are the person I came into this world to find.” Came into this world. What a heavy thing to say.

He did not mean that he had been born to inherit his witch mother’s abilities. He had no such gift. Nor did he mean he had come into this world to prove he could carve out a life of his own. No. He meant—

he had come into this world to find her.

The words awakened something in Anna. Perhaps this was the kind of love she had always believed she would never possess.

“I thought…” Her voice was faint. So faint it hurt to hear. “I thought no one in this world would care whether I existed…” There was so much coldness inside that quiet sentence.

So many years of disappointment. “But I…” She hesitated. “I think I’m starting to care about what kind of person I am in your eyes…” “Whether I’m beautiful…” “Whether the things I say are… inappropriate…” At last— she understood. Understood why she had spent so long that morning in front of the mirror, adjusting hair that had already been perfectly arranged.

Without realizing it—

she had begun to fall for him too.

Perhaps the moment she handed him the letter opener on top of the tower— she had accidentally handed him her heart as well. Jeffery heard: I thought no one in this world would care whether I existed. His chest tightened as though something had seized it. He did not speak immediately. He only looked at her. At the expression on her face as she said it. So faded. So quietly painful. The kind of expression that came not from peace— but from years of disappointment wearing every sharp edge off a person until only this remained.

Something tightened around his eyes. Then she continued. She said she had begun to care what she looked like in his mind. Whether she was beautiful. Whether she spoke properly. Jeffery listened. And as he listened— the fire in his eyes slowly changed. Not pity. Something deeper. Pain for her. Heavy. Pressed beneath his breastbone. Along with something almost bitterly grateful. Grateful he had walked seven years.

Grateful he had never turned away at some forgotten crossroads. Grateful he had found her. Instead of leaving her alone to continue believing— quietly— that no one in the world cared whether she existed.

He released her hand. For a moment, she might have thought he was stepping away.

He was not. He raised his hand. Slowly. Gently. With two fingers, he cradled her chin. Turned her face toward him. Until her eyes aligned with his. So she could not look away. Could not lower her head. Could not continue speaking those words to the floor.

He bent slightly toward her. His voice rough but steady. Each word slow. Clear. “You’re beautiful.” He paused. “You’ve never spoken improperly.” His thumb rested lightly against the curve of her chin. “And in my heart…” His eyes— two pieces of amber burned through with heat— held hers completely. “You are the reason those seven years were worth it.” Outside, the rain was loud. But his voice was steadier than the rain.

Hearing him— Anna could no longer hold herself together.

Tears rose instantly. So quickly that even someone as skilled as Jeffery had no time to wipe them away. They simply fell. Down her cheeks. Onto the fingers still holding her chin.

Everything was exactly as Addie had said. Anna could speak. Anna could cry. And once she started— she was the kind who needed to be held and comforted for a long time. She could not say anything.

She only cried. Like the child she had once been, standing outside her father’s closed door— crying while the door never opened.

The moment Jeffery saw her tears, he went completely still. Not because he did not know what to do. Because the sight was too real. So real that for one second— he could only watch. Watch the tears slip from the corners of her eyes. Watch them travel down over the fingers supporting her chin. Warm. Small. Settling against his skin with a weight that seemed to sink directly into his palm.

His throat tightened. She did not speak.

Only cried. Quietly. Without defense. In a way that made his chest tighten again and again. These were not tears from today. He could see that. They belonged to years. To someone who had stood outside a door for too long. Waited too long. Been disappointed too many times. Something had simply opened today. A small break in a place she herself had never expected. And everything came through at once. Jeffery said nothing.

Slowly, he moved the hand from beneath her chin. Then bent down. Gathered her into his arms. One arm around her back. The other hand gently supporting the back of her head. He guided her face against his chest. Let her cry. Let her cry as long as she needed.

His chin rested lightly on the top of her head. Her hair carried a faint scent. He closed his eyes. Felt the weight of her leaning against him. Felt the sound of her crying muffled against his chest. Felt the warmth of every tear soaking slowly through the fabric— all the way into the deepest part of him.

He had waited seven years. He was not in a hurry.

His palm moved over her back. Very slowly. Very gently. Back and forth. Like soothing someone who had been crying alone in the dark for far too long. His voice was deep. Almost vibrating directly from his chest. Only two words. “I’m here.”

He paused. “Cry.”