It was past one when the knock came, Soft, Hesitant. The kind of knock that wasn't sure if it wanted to be heard or forgotten. Belladonna didn't stir immediately. She sat on the edge of her bed, the photo still in her hand—the one of them laughing in the glow of a late afternoon, when love had been light and easy and full of promises they never thought they'd fail to keep. She had stared at it for over an hour now, her thumb brushing again and again over Caleb's smile like maybe she could rub the distance away. When the knock came again, firmer this time, her heart jumped into her throat. A part of her wanted to ignore it. To pretend that she hadn't hoped for this exact moment every night for weeks but hope had a cruel way of lingering in her chest long after it should have died. She rose slowly, quietly, her bare feet padding across the floor toward the door. She didn't need to look through the peephole. She knew Some things you don't need eyes to recognize. When she opened the door, she found him standing there in the quiet hallway, his hands in the pockets of that same old navy hoodie the one she used to steal and sleep in when he wasn't around. His eyes looked tired, rimmed with the kind of ache only regret could leave behind. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The space between them held too much. The kind of silence packed with everything they had avoided saying every apology unsent, every confession buried, every memory still echoing between four walls that had once felt like home. "I didn't think you'd be awake," he said finally, voice low, cautious, almost boyish. "I couldn't sleep," she replied, arms crossed over her chest like armor. "I don't really sleep well anymore." His expression softened into something like shame. "Can i talk to you?" he asked. "I don't expect anything. I just there are some things i should've said a long time ago." Belladonna didn't answer immediately. Her fingers tightened on the doorframe, and for a second, she thought about telling him to leave. Then she remembered all the times she had wished he'd just show up. And now that he was here her heart didn't know how to turn him away. She stepped aside. He took it as an invitation and entered slowly, cautiously, like he was stepping into a sacred space one he had once belonged to, and maybe still longed for. The apartment looked the same but felt different. There were still plants in the corners, candles half-burned on the coffee table, her poetry books stacked beside the couch but the air was heavier now, More lived-in,More haunted. He sat on the edge of the couch while she remained standing, her back straight, jaw clenched. "I've rehearsed this conversation in my head more times than i can count," Caleb began, his hands clasped between his knees but none of the words i practiced sound right when I'm actually here. "Then don't rehearse," she said. "Just be honest." He looked up at her, eyes searching, then nodded. "I left because I was scared," he said. "Not of you. Of what I felt. Of how deep it was getting. Every time you looked at me like i was worth something, it terrified me because i didn't grow up with that. With someone seeing past my mistakes and staying anyway." Belladonna remained still, arms folded. "And instead of letting you in i made you feel alone. I made you question yourself, like your love was too much when really? it was the only thing keeping me grounded." She exhaled, the weight of those words crashing into her like a wave. "I kept asking myself what I did wrong," she whispered. "I replayed everything, trying to find the exact moment I lost you but you were already halfway gone, weren't you?" His voice cracked. "Yeah." She shook her head, laughing bitterly. "I would've waited for you to figure it out, Caleb. I was waiting. But it's hard to hold on when the other person keeps letting go. i know, he said. "And I'm not asking you to forget what i did. Or how i made you feel. I just wanted you to know that i see it now. I see you, and i hate that it took losing you to understand what i had. Belladonna looked at him for a long time. Her chest tightened not out of anger, but grief. Grief for all the love they had wasted. For all the things they never said. For how different it could've been if only he had stayed. "I loved you so much, she said loudly. And i did it with everything i had but i won't go back to whispering myself into someone else's silence. Caleb stood slowly, walking closer, but keeping his distance. "I'm not here to pull you back," he said gently. "I just want to meet you where you are now wherever that is. If it means starting from scratch, I'll do that. If it means walking away and giving you peace, I'll do that too. But I'm not running anymore. The silence between them turned warm. And then she whispered, "Do you still love me?" He didn't even hesitate. "I never stopped." Her eyes welled, but she didn't look away. She wanted to remember this moment the rawness of it, the honesty, the man who had finally stopped hiding behind fear. "I don't know if I can trust you again," she said. "Not yet." "That's okay," He replied. "Then let me earn it. No promises. No timeline. Just me present. Ready." Belladonna took a slow breath. Then, without another word, she walked to the kitchen and returned with a folded blanket. She placed it gently on the couch and nodded once. "You can sleep here tonight," she said softly. "It's not everything. But it's a start." Caleb didn't move for a moment. Then he whispered, "Thank you." And that night, in the stillness of her small apartment, with no apologies rehearsed and no hearts fully healed, two people who had once lost each other began quietly, carefully to find their way back.