Day 84 – 12:57 PM Isis’s POV

  The rain had finally stopped, but everything smelled like petrichor and pavement. Isis stood across the street from the cafe, heart pounding, palms sweaty in the sleeves of her bck cropped hoodie. Her bck Converse were soaked at the toes, and her high-waisted, ripped skinny jeans clung tight from the damp.

  She saw him before he saw her.

  Jasper Ashbourne.

  Tall—no, towering. 6’3 of dark clothes and quiet intensity. His bck hair was messy in that intentional kind of way, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. He was leaning against the wall near the entrance, head tilted down, checking his phone.

  Her breath caught.

  He was real.

  And then he looked up.

  Their eyes met.

  Isis didn’t move at first, unsure if her legs would hold. But when he gave her the smallest smile—crooked, vulnerable, familiar—she crossed the street like she was walking toward gravity itself.

  “Hey,” she breathed, standing in front of him.

  His eyes flicked over her quickly—like he was memorizing her.

  “You’re even smaller than I thought,” he muttered, smirking. His voice—British and beautiful—rattled through her like electricity.

  “Rude,” she said, smiling through her nerves.

  And then he wrapped his arms around her.

  Not a polite hug.

  Not a friend hug.

  A full-body, pull-you-into-me-like-I-missed-you-my-whole-life kind of hug.

  She melted.

  Jasper’s POV-

  The moment he saw her—really saw her—it was like time cracked open.

  Isis Bckwood.

  All 4’10 of her. Messy dark hair, huge eyes, biting her lip as she crossed the street. She looked like every poem he’d ever tried to write and gave up on halfway through.

  She was real.

  More real than the pain he carried.

  More real than the grief, the guilt, the ghosts.

  And when she stood in front of him, looking up like he held the stars—

  He lost his breath.

  Her voice? Softer than over the phone. Her presence? Louder than anything.

  He hugged her, and she folded into his chest like she was made to be there. His chin rested perfectly on top of her head. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his coat.

  He whispered, “Hi” into her hair.

  And just like that—

  The wait was over.

  Her ugh.

  It was quiet, almost shy, but it filled the space between them like light cracking through a stormcloud.

  Jasper hadn’t stopped watching her since she walked through the door. She was curled into the seat like the world was too big for her and she’d carved out this small piece of safety. Her fingers danced along the rim of her coffee cup, nervous energy crackling beneath her skin.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about how fragile she looked—and how strong she really was.

  “You always fidget like that when you’re nervous?” he asked.

  She blinked. “What makes you think I’m nervous?”

  “You haven’t touched your croissant.”

  She gave him a look. “Okay, stalker.”

  He ughed, but there was a softness in it. “I notice things about you. I like noticing things.”

  They sat in silence for a while. Not awkward—just comfortable. The kind of quiet that meant something was building, and neither of them wanted to ruin it.

  And then she reached across the table, her small hand sliding over his.

  “Thank you,” she said. “For being here. For not being scared away.”

  He looked at her, really looked.

  And then he said it, low and serious:

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  [Day 84 – 4:02 PM Isis’ Ft – Isis’s POV]

  She fumbled with her keys outside the door, pulse hammering.

  Jasper stood behind her, tall and quiet, his presence like gravity. The moment she pushed the door open, her little ft felt smaller, warmer—more alive—than it ever had before.

  “Welcome to my castle,” she said, stepping inside and tossing her bag on the couch.

  Jasper followed her in, eyes scanning the space. It was modest—tiny kitchen, beat-up couch, string lights overhead—but it was hers. And now he was here. That changed everything.

  “You live here alone?” he asked.

  She nodded, nervously smoothing the sleeves of her hoodie. “Yep.”

  He stepped closer. “You don’t have to anymore.”

  Her breath caught.

  And in that moment, with the light from the rain-dappled window casting silver across his face, she couldn’t fight it anymore. All the weeks of phone calls, te-night confessions, shared brokenness—they hit her like a wave.

  She moved to him.

  Or maybe he moved first—she wasn’t sure. But their lips collided in something slow and trembling, a kiss born of months of longing and quiet desperation. His hand cupped the back of her neck. Hers tugged at the hem of his hoodie.

  She pulled away for a second, breathless. “You sure?”

  He nodded, voice husky. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

  -Jasper’s POV

  Her hoodie came off first—he didn’t even register how small it was until he saw the curve of her waist, the way her cropped tank rode up just slightly as she moved. She was art. Tiny, fierce, and his.

  He let her lead, even if every inch of his body ached to pull her close and never let go.

  When she looked up at him, her eyes soft and searching, he saw all of her—her pain, her trust, her fear. And she was letting him see.

  He kissed her again, deeper this time. More certain.

  “You feel safe?” he said against her mouth.

  Her fingers gripped his shirt, pulling him toward the bed. “Only with you.”

  [Later That Night – Isis’s Ft – Isis’s POV]

  She y curled into Jasper’s chest, his fingers trailing slow, zy circles on her bare shoulder. The rain outside had softened to a gentle whisper against the window, the world beyond their walls hushed and distant.

  She felt safe. Not just physically, but in that rare, soul-deep way that made her feel seen.

  Jasper’s voice broke the silence, low and rough. “That… wasn’t just sex.”

  She smiled into his skin. “I know.”

  He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her. “You okay?”

  She nodded slowly, then after a pause, whispered, “I’ve never felt that close to someone before. It kind of scared me… but in a good way.”

  Jasper leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You don’t have to be scared with me. Not ever.”

  She traced patterns across his chest with her fingertips. “Do you really mean that?”

  “I do.”

  Silence settled again, but it was comfortable this time. She could feel her walls lowering, slowly, piece by piece.

  “I hated my body for a long time,” she admitted quietly. “The scars, the size, the way people always looked at me like I didn’t belong. But… when you look at me, it’s different.”

  Jasper’s hand found hers. “That’s because I don’t see broken pieces when I look at you, Isis. I see fire. I see the girl who survived everything and still managed to find her way to me.”

  Her eyes welled, and she turned to bury her face in his chest, hiding the tears.

  “You’re going to ruin me,” she mumbled.

  He kissed her hair, holding her tighter. “Maybe we ruin each other… or maybe we save each other. Either way, I’m not going anywhere.”

  And in that moment, for the first time in years, maybe, just maybe…she believed someone.