For Me,There Is Only You |18+|

61. Acceptance

I was wrong.

I thought happiness was lost to me forever.

That I would spend the rest of my life buried under the weight of everything that had happened, unable to breathe, unable to move forward.

But I was wrong.

Ansel proved me wrong.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could be loved so deeply—especially by someone as extraordinary as him.

His love felt like sunlight on my skin, warm and reassuring, after being trapped in the cold depths of darkness for so long.

Like coming up for air just as my lungs were about to give out, gasping, desperate, thinking I would never make it.

For a moment, I truly believed I would drown.

And in that moment, giving up felt easier than fighting.

Dying felt easier than surviving.

But Ansel's love had shown me what it truly meant to live—what it meant to live for someone else.

It was through him that I learned what it felt like to be heard, to be seen, to have someone put you above everything else.

And I couldn't help but feel lucky—because he chose me. He told me himself that even if fate hadn't tied us together, even if I wasn't his mate, he still would have chosen me.

He still would have been mine.

And now, I wanted to be his too.

I wanted to love him the way he loved me.

Before Ansel, I used to believe that love had to be physical to keep someone happy. That if you didn't give enough, they'd eventually find a reason to leave.

But Ansel proved me wrong.

He kept himself away from me for four years, silently bearing the pain of one-sided love, all because he wanted to keep me safe. And when he finally brought me into his world, he still kept his distance, careful not to overwhelm me.

Yet, in every small act, he showed me his love—when he cooked for me, when he made sure I was safe, when he ensured I felt included in this house, like I belonged.

He was always there for me, never asking for anything in return.

He made me realize that love wasn't about taking—it was about giving.

No matter how much he desired me, he never once took more than I was willing to give.

Yes, he had kissed me—many times—but that was where he drew the line.

A line he would never cross until I was ready.

And that was what I loved most about him.

How, no matter what, he always put my needs before his own.

Now that I understood Ansel more, it wasn't that I wanted to leave him hanging or so desperate for me that he ended up torturing himself.

But after Zev, intimacy terrified me.

Even if I tried to take a step forward with Ansel, I knew my body would remember.

The panic would creep in, my chest would tighten, and before I knew it, I'd start hyperventilating.

And the last thing I wanted was for Ansel to think I was rejecting him.

I just needed time—to set our relationship at the right pace, to heal in my own way.