~ SIXTY-THREE ~

“I’m sorry.”

Two words—soft, barely above a whisper—but they hit him like a jolt.

Because those words meant she still cared. That despite everything, she still felt. And that alone was more than he could’ve hoped for.

His arms tightened around her instinctively, the dam he’d been holding back for weeks finally giving way. He didn’t say a word—not yet. Instead, he kissed her again, deeper, hungrier, his hands pressed flat against her back as he guided her into the counter behind her. This kiss wasn’t soft. It was bruising, desperate, a clash of want and pain and weeks of silence stretched too long.

A whole month without her—it had been fucking torture.

He hadn’t meant for any of it to happen. That night, that stupid party… it was a stupid game. Truth or Dare. A girl leaned in during the middle of the dare and kissed him before he could even blink. And then—just like fate had planned it—Mandy walked in. Her expression had said everything. Her silence afterward said even more.

He had tried.

Texts. Calls. Voice notes. Waiting outside her faculty. The late-night messages that were never read. Nothing got through to her. She had closed him out completely.

And now, here she was.

Outside his door the night before like she’d never left.

Still here this morning, curled up beneath his sheets.

Still here now, saying I’m sorry.

He pulled back slowly, his breath uneven as his eyes swept over her face. Her lips were pink and swollen from the force of his kiss, parted slightly as though she was still trying to catch up with everything that had just happened.

His gaze met hers—wide, searching, glassy—and something inside him stilled.

There was so much they needed to say. So much they needed to fix. But not now.

Not here.

Later, they would talk. Later, she could scream or cry or ask all the questions he owed answers to. But for now, all that mattered was that she was here. With him.

And he wasn’t about to waste a second more.

Without a word, he took her hand, warm and small in his, and began leading her gently toward the hallway. Her eyes didn’t leave his, but she followed without question, her breath shallow as they passed the dim living room and into the quiet of his bedroom.

This was not about sex.

It wasn’t even about forgiveness—not yet.

It was about feeling. Reconnection. Two people trying to find their way back to each other through the silence, the ache, and the space they'd let grow too wide.

The door closed softly behind them, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Because she had come back.

And that was enough—for now.

\----

The door clicked shut behind them, and before the silence could stretch, his mouth was on hers again—urgent, unrelenting. Every second without her had built to this moment, and now that he had her, he couldn’t hold back. He didn’t want to.

Her response was just as fierce, matching him move for move, breath for breath. There was no hesitation, no restraint—just a wildfire reigniting.

Earlier that morning, after leaving for sports, he’d gone to Obinna’s, knowing she needed space. He hadn’t wanted to overwhelm her. But now… now she was here, and there was nothing in the way.

Breaking their kiss for only a heartbeat, Aaron pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the faint gleam of silver—a necklace with a familiar M charm resting against his skin. Her eyes locked on it instantly. She lifted trembling fingers and reached for it, the cool metal warming beneath her touch. Their gazes stayed locked as her fingers lingered at the base of his throat, her hand resting against his chest where his heart pounded like a drum.

“Mandy,” he whispered—just her name—but it was enough. She surged forward, capturing his mouth again, sealing the gap between them.

The fire was too hot to smother. Still, his hands moved with reverence, sliding under her shirt as if revealing her piece by piece was sacred. Every inch of her skin was treated like a rediscovered treasure—one he’d feared he might never touch again. Her breath caught when he reached her lace, and then she was in his arms again, bare and beautiful beneath him, her skin flushed, her eyes shining with something he didn’t dare name yet—but hoped.

He hovered above her, their mouths brushing, sharing breath and the quiet thrum of want. He took his time, pressing slow kisses along the curves of her body, reacquainting his mouth with the softness he’d missed, relearning her with every sigh and shiver she offered in return.

When he kissed her lower lip, she moaned his name, a sound that wrapped around his ribs like rope. She opened for him, welcoming him in without words, but everything in her body said yes.

He worshipped her.

He didn’t rush. He wanted to memorize how her body moved with his—how she trembled under his touch, how she gasped when his hands found the places only he had ever known. When her breath hitched, he followed the sound, his lips and tongue coaxing her higher and higher until she was trembling beneath him, coming undone on the edge of his name.

And when he finally rose, settling between her thighs and pressing forward, he looked into her eyes and said it, low and rough, “Eyes on me, Mandy.”

Their bodies met like two halves finding their way home. He moved inside her with a rhythm that was all feeling—slow, deep, sure. His hands tangled with hers above her head, fingers lacing tightly, grounding her as he filled her completely. She arched beneath him, a gasp escaping her lips when he angled just right and found that spot that made her fall apart all over again.

He adjusted, his thrusts deliberate, chasing every flicker of her expression, every quiet sound that slipped from her mouth. He kissed her through it all—her lips, her jaw, her shoulder—like he was sealing promises into her skin.

Soon, the tension tightened, their pace quickened, their bodies chasing something inevitable and burning. Her moans deepened as his name left her lips over and over, and he couldn't hold back any longer.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her throat, voice shaking. “I’m so damn sorry…”

She held him tighter.

He buried his face in her neck, their skin slick with heat and want, her breath in his ear as they both tipped over the edge—together. The moment cracked open around them as they unraveled, breathless, tangled, his body sinking into hers as theirs shook with release.

He didn’t let go.

Not even after.

Even as their breathing slowed and the world softened around them, he kept her close. Pressed a kiss to her temple. Another to her cheek.

And then, as she looked up at him through lashes damp with emotion, he said the words that had lived in him every day since she left.

“I love you, Mandy.”

And this time, he hoped she'd believe it.