Clocked Heart

Chapter 23- June

I stood at the edge of something I'd never dared to imagine—a life where I wasn't constantly building walls, where I let someone in deep enough to see the chaos I'd spent years trying to hide. But with Graham, it felt... different. Not easier, just different. Maybe it was the way he never wavered, even when I gave him every reason to walk away. Maybe it was how he looked at me—like he saw past all the broken pieces, past all the things I'd been so sure made me unworthy of being loved. He looked at me like I was worth it. Like I was worth fighting for.

It terrified me.

After everything that had happened, I half-expected the silence to return, to swallow us whole like it always did. That suffocating quiet had been my refuge for so long, a place where I could hide from the world and pretend I didn't care. But now... now the silence felt different. Heavier. Not in the crushing way it used to be, but with the weight of something unspoken. Something neither of us was ready to put into words just yet.

What comes next? How do I even begin?

We stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world around us melting into nothing more than a backdrop. The quiet rhythm of our breathing—blurred together until the only thing that mattered was the steady beat of his heart beneath my hand. In that moment, everything that had once felt so impossible—every fear, every doubt—shrank to the background. It wasn't gone, not entirely, but it was smaller. Manageable, somehow.

The weight I'd carried for so long? It was still there, but suddenly, with him holding me like that, it didn't seem so heavy. It felt... lighter. Like I could breathe again. Like maybe, just maybe, I could start to believe that this—we—might be something real.

Graham pulled back slowly, his eyes searching mine with a quiet intensity that made my breath catch. There was something in his gaze—tender and unwavering—that made my chest tighten, like he was trying to commit this moment to memory. The air between us felt charged, and delicate, like this fragile connection we'd somehow carved out of the chaos could break at any second. He didn't speak right away. He just looked at me—really looked—like he saw past the layers I kept up to shield myself from the world. Finally, his voice broke the stillness, soft and inviting, but weighted with something deeper than just the words.

"How about we take a walk by the beach before the rain starts?"

It was more than a simple question. It was an invitation, not just to a walk, but to something I wasn't sure I was ready for. Something I'd been afraid of my whole life—letting someone close again enough to see the mess of it all. And yet, the way he asked, so gentle, so patient, like he knew how much it scared me and was willing to wait—God, that scared me even more.

I hesitated. The thought of letting this moment stretch into something real sent a wave of unease through me. My instinct was to pull away, to shut it down before it could hurt. But then I looked at him again. His gaze, so steady, so sincere, held the promise of something solid in a world that had always felt like it could crumble beneath my feet at any second.

Before I could stop myself, I nodded. "Okay," I whispered, my voice barely holding steady.

Graham smiled—a small, quiet curve of his lips that felt like reassurance, like safety. He didn't say anything more. Instead, he reached for my hand, his fingers warm as they slid against mine, grounding me in a way I hadn't known I needed. And just like that, we started walking, our steps in sync as we made our way toward the beach.

The path was quiet, save for the soft crunch of gravel beneath our feet and the distant sound of the ocean. The sky above was fading into twilight, casting a golden glow over everything, like the world itself had slowed down just for us. And for a moment, I let myself get lost in it—the peace, the quiet. I wasn't sure how long it had been since I'd felt this still.