There was a heavy silence between us as we sat across the table, the breakfast untouched on my plate. My brows furrowed with unease, tension etching invisible lines across my forehead. Danny watched me quietly, his gaze soft but unreadable. Then, without a word, he reached across and gently squeezed my hand.
"Hey," he said, voice warm and grounding. "Whatever it is—we'll tackle it together."
I nodded slowly, biting the inside of my cheek. It took every ounce of courage to speak the words that followed. "I just… I don't want to drag you into this. Maybe… maybe you should stop hanging out with me."
His hand stilled, and I saw the light dim just a little in his eyes.
"Rose," he said with a cracked voice, brushing his thumb over my knuckles, "do you think I've stayed by your side all this time just to walk away when things get hard?"
His voice dropped a little, steadier now. "I didn't fall for you because it was easy. I fell for you because you never back down. Because you care too much, even when it hurts. Because somehow, in this chaotic world, you make everything feel a little more… like home."
He looked right into my eyes then, and I saw it—no hesitation, no second-guessing.
"I love you, Rose Da Silva. God, I didn't even realize how badly I needed someone like you until you crashed into my world. And now... I don't ever want to imagine it without you"
My breath caught. Tears pricked at my eyes, and my lips trembled under the weight of it all. "Yes," I whispered.
He leaned in, kissing me softly—just once—but the world seemed to pause in that moment. When we pulled away, our foreheads rested together, our breaths mingling in the hush.
"Everything will be alright," he murmured. "Whoever's behind this… they won't get away with it."
I nodded, heart full. "They won't. I trust you. And we're going to win this competition—no matter what anyone tries to do.
He nodded and gently wiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumb, and for a moment, the world felt calm again. Then, as if switching gears, he reached over and pulled out the notebook where we'd scribbled down every detail of our project—the blueprint of everything we'd built together so far.
We sat close, our shoulders brushing as we flipped through pages filled with notes, timelines, and bold ideas. The air shifted from tender to focused, our minds syncing as we dove into discussion. No more hesitations, no distractions—just us, planning, thinking aloud, throwing around thoughts with purpose. It wasn't just work. It was us, in rhythm.