Williams didn't speak for a long time after what Dera said. He just held her like he was anchoring himself, as if letting go of her might cause his entire world to disintegrate. They were locked in that moment, in that fragile bubble of stillness that throbbed with unspoken tension and the residue of pain.
His face remained focused on the opposite wall, the shadows of the room casting soft lines across his strong jaw, but eventually, he moved. Slowly, like he didn't want to startle her or himself, Williams lowered his head. He nestled his nose into her braids, burying it there like it was the only place he found peace.
When he finally spoke, his voice came out low, lighter than usual, a hushed reverence woven into his tone, as if he was offering her a sacred confession, coming from the most sacred place in his heart.
"I understand why you feel that way, but you are wrong," he said, his voice thick with weight, with sorrow, with the need to be understood.
