She stopped me from jumping. Now I can’t imagine life without her—but loving her might be the one thing that breaks her.
I was ready to disappear. One step off that bridge in Venice, and it would’ve been over.
Then she appeared—barefoot, paint-stained, stubborn as hell. And she told me I didn’t look like someone who gave up.
She didn’t know who I was. Just that I was broken.
Three weeks in her tiny apartment changed everything. She gave me peace, sleep, something like hope.
Now she’s here—in my city, my chaos, my life. And I don’t know how to protect her without breaking her.
My father offered her money to walk away. My ex launched a smear campaign. The headlines call her a gold digger.
She says I wrap her in velvet chains. That love isn’t protection if it comes with a cage.
She saved me once. But if I can’t let her stand on her own, I’ll lose her.
If I hold too tight, I crush her.
If I let go, I fall back into the dark.
Mature
