Daniel didn’t pull away.
Neither did Marian.
For a heartbeat, they stayed there—caught between restraint and truth, breath mingling, the past pressing close. Then Marian’s hand slid up his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as if anchoring herself, and something unspoken finally broke free between them.
Five years.
Five years of restraint, of silence, of choosing distance when every instinct had begged for closeness.
Daniel deepened the kiss, slow at first, reverent—like he was relearning her, like he needed to make sure she was real. Marian responded in kind, her hands framing his face, her touch familiar and new all at once. There was no urgency yet, only certainty. Only the quiet understanding that this was inevitable the moment they stopped pretending.
He rested his forehead a
