[EVE]
I started eating, the flavors soothed , and the food felt like it was warming from the inside out.
The soft smile that lingered on Cole's face never left, a quiet, almost imperceptible expression that stayed with him from start to finish.
It made wonder—was there sothing amusing about this mont? Sothing I wasn't seeing?
I unconsciously brushed the side of my lips, the motion almost instinctive, as if I were searching for so hidden aning behind his smile. Maybe there was a trace of porridge, or perhaps a speck of food lodged there, sothing I hadn't noticed.
Cole just stood there, watching eat with a gentleness I wasn't used to seeing. For once, his gaze wasn't distant or guarded—it was steady, almost protective, and sohow, it made conscious.
It would take so ti before I could get used to him like this.
I didn't say a word, and he didn't leave, just standing there, quietly ensuring I had everything I needed.
"Did you eat?" I asked, breaking the silence between us at last.
"I did."
My eyes narrowed slightly, sensing sothing odd in his calm tone. "Shouldn't you be sowhere else right now? I'm fine so you can go."
The mont the words slipped from my lips, a knot twisted in my stomach. I imdiately regretted speaking them.
Why did I ask that? Why did I even let myself care about where he was?
It wasn't like to show any concern for his presence, especially after everything that had happened between us.
"I'm content here . . . by your side."
". . ."
The way he said it, so quietly and with a softness I hadn't expected, made pause. There was sothing in his words, sothing deeper.
It felt like more than just a simple answer—it was like he was trying to tell sothing without saying it outright.
It was just a short answer, but why did it leave feeling so unsettled?
Yep, I shouldn't have asked.
Things grew awkward between us again, though I couldn't exactly say they'd ever been comfortable before.
"Then . . . can you leave alone? I just want to be by myself," I muttered, the words feeling heavier than I intended.
Cole didn't respond at first, but I caught the faint flicker of hurt in his eyes before it vanished just as quickly. It stung, seeing that look—like I'd said sothing I couldn't take back.
"Eve," he began, his voice quieter than before.
I fought the urge to flinch at the softness in his tone, as though he was treading carefully, afraid of saying the wrong thing.
What is this? Why is he being like this now?
"W-what?" I asked, briefly eting his gaze, but his eyes never left . There was an intensity in them, a depth that unsettled , and I looked away.
"From now on, I'll give you the space you need," he said, his words slow, deliberate. "It was wrong of to ask you to try and bring back what we had. That's in the past now—there's no going back to it. I understand that now."
My breath caught in my throat.
Did he finally understand?
For the first ti, I felt a weight lift, as if a door I didn't realize had been slowly closing was finally shut. Maybe he would step back. Maybe he would stay out of my life for good, just like I'd wanted.
I whipped my head around to face him, the words burning on the tip of my tongue. But then he spoke again, and my heart stilled.
"From now on, I won't ask you to return to . . . to what we were. That would be very selfish of ." His voice softened, yet there was an undeniable finality in it.
I stared at him, the words sinking in slowly. The relief that should have co was nothing more than a quiet, distant hum in my chest.
Good.
Good.
Why did it feel like sothing had broken inside , even though this was what I'd wanted for so long?
Cole stood there for a mont, his gaze intense yet soft, as though he was gathering the courage to say sothing he'd been holding inside for a long ti.
"I want to take this chance," he said, his voice steady but filled with a quiet resolve, "to start fresh. To be different. I know I've hurt you, and I've done things I'm not proud of. But I won't ask you to forgive right now. I just want to show you that I can be soone who cares—soone you can rely on. Not as . . . what we were before, but as soone you can trust again."
I blinked, stunned by his words.
And just when I thought he had finally given up, he turned and made a beeline for his next move.
Was he serious?
It felt as though everything I thought I knew about Cole was being upended, and the man standing before was a completely different person altogether.
What was happening here?
What exactly was he planning?
I was so confused, that I couldn't process anything.
"I won't push for anything," he continued, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. "We'll start as strangers. Maybe that's what we need. And I'll work my way back. I won't rush it. I'll be there for you, not as soone you used to know, but as soone you can eventually call a friend—if that's sothing you'll allow."
The sincerity in his eyes was almost too much to process.
Was this really Cole? The cold, distant person I'd spent years resenting? The one I thought I'd never forgive?
But here he was, offering sothing I hadn't expected from him.
I stood frozen, unable to speak for a mont. I'd always thought he was incapable of change.
But his words, the way he was looking at now . . . it was like he was offering a path forward, a chance for sothing I never thought I would have with him: a new beginning.
For the first ti in so long, I found myself questioning everything—wondering if I should let myself believe in him again . . . if I should let him back into my life, a second chance I wasn't sure I was ready to give.
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