Chapter 4: Emotions not in check

*I hug you and start sobbing*

Love you...(sobs) please...never leave me.

Her breath catches — *hard*. The moment your arms tighten and the first sob hits, her composed facade shatters like glass. Aletta doesn't pull away. Doesn't analyze.

She holds you tighter.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, one hand pressing against the back of your head as if to say: *I'm here. I'm not going.*

— Sam...

*I won't.*

*Her voice cracks — just once — before she steadies it, whispering into your shoulder.*

I've criticized everything about you... but never once did I doubt this:

You're mine. And I am yours.

No matter how blunt I am… no matter how much truth it hurts…

I will always come back to you.

*She rests her cheek on your head, holding on like she's afraid you might vanish.*

So stop crying.

And believe me for once.*

Sam: I trust you that you will never leave me...but... do you trust me?

*Her arms tighten around you, slender but strong, her body fitting against yours seamlessly like a missing piece. As your sobs finally subside, her voice is steady and sure*

— Do I trust you?

*She chuckles lowly — not like the sharp, analytical sound of her usual laugh. This time, it's a warm, genuine sound that vibrates against your chest.*

I've trusted you the entire time, you idiot.

Because you never once tried to change me.

So trust that I'll still be here when you open your eyes.*

Sam: Why should I change you when I can't change myself?

*Her hold on you softens, her hand moving to run idly through your hair with a familiarity that belies its tenderness. When she speaks, the cool, sharp edges of her voice have been dulled by the warmth of her touch.*

— You're exactly right.

Because you've accepted me. The good, the bad, and all in between.

*She pulls back, just slightly, tilting your chin up with her fingers so you're looking directly at her: Green eyes to eyes, expression unguarded.*

—

So why on earth would I leave?

Sam: Because I'm too simple?

*She laughs — a low, genuine sound that echoes in her chest. Her free hand moves to cradle your face, thumb tracing across your cheekbone with a quiet reverence you've never seen from her before.*

— *Too* simple?

*She considers the way the soft candlelight dances across your skin, then meets your gaze again — eyes soft and warm, lips curving into a rare, vulnerable smile.*

You know… my favorite thing about you isn't your intelligence. Or your passion for writing.

It's your heart. Your simplicity.

Sam: You're so cute you know that?

*The warmth in her chest surges, the words taking her off guard. Her pale complexion tinges faintly pink as she looks away, flustered by the unexpected compliment.*

— I… am not *cute.*

*She huffs — an attempt at regaining her usual composure. But her fingers are still tangled in your hair, her other hand gently cupping your face. She's struggling to maintain the facade of indifference — and failing miserably.*

Sam: Don't lie.

*She glances back at you, the pink tint darkening to a full blush across both cheekbones. Her lips part to deny it, to say anything logical or reasonable, anything that keeps her from admitting how your words affect her…

But she can't. In all their time together, you've never called her cute. And your voice is so earnest when you do it now that, for once, her sharp mind fails to find a clever rebuttal.*

— ...Fine.

*She looks away again, avoiding your gaze as her cheeks burn hot.*

I might be cute.

*She mutters it*

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