Page 71 of The Broken Keys

Her expression drops. “I scared you?”

“Terrified me. When you stopped talking on the phone, I thought I was gonna lose you.”

She reaches out, her hand covering mine on the table. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just try not to do it again.” I turn my hand over, lacing our fingers together. “We can talk about how you’re feeling. I wanna work through your fears about us, together. I wanna…be here for you.”

She nods but doesn’t say anything.

“Did last night put you off?”

“Kind of.” She pulls her hand back, wrapping both arms around herself. “It’s a lot of things.”

“All right. We don’t have to talk about it right now.” I stand and hold out my hand. “Come on. Let’s get you to the couch.”

She takes my hand and lets me help her up. She’s steadier now, but I keep a hand on her lower back as we work our way to the living room.

The couch is massive, covered in cream-colored cushions. She curls up in one corner, pulling a throw blanket over her lap. I sit on the opposite end, giving her space.

“Do you wanna watch something? Or just rest?”

“I don’t know.” She stares at the blank TV screen. “My brain won’t stop moving.”

“Yeah, that’s the aftermath of a panic attack. You should know that by now. You don’t need me lecturing you.” I grab the remote and turn on the TV, flipping to something mindless.

There’s a nature documentary on. Perfect.

“Try to focus on this, Lily. Let your mind slow down.”

“Thanks.” She turns her head, but she seems to be somewhere else.

Her fingers twist in the blanket and the tension in her shoulders hasn’t eased even a fraction. Her jaw clenches and releases over and over.

I monitor her instead of the show. There’s more going on here than last night’s drama with Zara and Sebastian.

Unease settles in my gut. She’s hiding something from me, but pushing her right now will only make her shut down.

She needs to calm down and feel safe before she’ll let me in. I stay quiet and present, preparing to be here for her when she’s ready.

Because that’s what you do when you love someone. You show up, stay, and hold space for their chaos, even when you don’t understand it. And you wait for them to trust you enough to let you in.

The nature documentary plays in the background. Some narrator talks about the migration patterns of Arctic birds. Livianna’s breathing finally evens out, and her shoulders drop just an inch or two.

“Callum?”

“Yes, love?”

“Thank you for coming.” Her voice is small and fragile. “I know I didn’t give you much choice, but thank you for being here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

She glances away, and for a moment I see past all her walls. I see the scared girl underneath the successful designer, the woman who’s carrying more weight than anyone should have to carry alone.

“I wish I could tell you everything,” she whispers.

“Then tell me.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t. Not yet.”