The Only Direction That Makes Sense

The wind howls past us, ruffling my hair and making me shiver.

He’s still holding me.

Not as tight as before—but not letting go either.

I can feel where his fingers press into my arm, steady, possessive. Like he’s making sure I’m still here. Like he doesn’t quite trust the ground anymore.

For a second, neither of us moves or speaks. Then I let out a breath that isn’t steady at all.

“That was close.”

It sounds stupid the second it leaves my mouth.

He doesn’t answer.

I look up at him.

Whatever calm he had before—it’s gone. There’s something else now. He seems upset, less controlled.

His grip tightens.

“Sina.”

Just my name. Nothing else. It sounds weighty.

I take a slow breath.

My pulse is racing, but it’s changed. There’s no fear anymore. Not even anger. Something soft tangled up with something that makes it hard to think straight.

I look at him again.

Close.

Too close.

“I almost fell, and you caught me,” I murmur. “Don’t push me away again.”

His jaw tightens.

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is it?” I press.

He exhales sharply, like he’s running out of patience. Or excuses.

“Why are you doing this?”

For a moment, I don’t answer. Because I don’t have a clear answer. Because the honest answer sounds even worse when spoken aloud.

I shrug, but it feels wrong.

“Because I want to know,” I finally admit. “I want to know if I’m good enough for you.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t answer.

Silence stretches.

The wind dies down for a moment, like everything is waiting.

There’s no pretending anymore.

I can see it now. In his posture. In his gaze.

That’s all it takes. Something in me snaps into place.

I make my decision.

My hand finds his jacket, gripping it before I can second-guess it.

“If you don’t want this,” I say, closer now, my voice barely above the wind, “then stop me.”

For a fraction of a second, nothing happens.

Then his arms wrap around me and pull me close to him.

Holding me there.

That’s the answer.

My breath catches. The distance between us disappears. All at once.

I tilt my head slightly, just enough that I don’t have to look directly at him anymore.

Cowardly.

Or maybe the opposite.

“I didn’t say stop,” I whisper.

His face moves closer to mine. Our eyes close in unison. Our lips touch.

We melt into an embrace.

Forever.

I let go of his jacket just long enough to grab his hand instead.

“Come on,” I murmur.

We're heading in the only direction that makes sense right now. The gravel shifts under our feet as I pull him away from the edge, back toward the car. Not fast, but without hesitation this time.

When we reach the car, I stop.

For a second, everything hangs there again.

I look into his eyes and see in them the same longing that fills me.

I nod.