​...
​The room fell into a heavy silence. Outside, the rain had just stopped, leaving only the rhythmic drip-drip against the windowsill. The biting mountain air crept in through the gap under the door, making me grateful for the heavy jacket I was still wearing.
​The only sound between us was the unsteady hitch in your breath—soft and trembling. You just kept your head down. I noticed your lips; the warm, terracotta-tinted lipstick you always wore—the only thing you ever needed to keep from looking pale—was almost entirely gone. Only a faint, smudged stain remained, making you look even more fragile under the dim light. As I leaned closer, the clean scent of your soap mingled with the cold air.
​I took a long, shaky breath, and in that moment, I realized how foolish I must have sounded—giving speeches about diamonds and pebbles when you could barely find the strength to look up. I pulled my hand back awkwardly, shoving it deep into my jacket pocket.
​But then, you reached out.
​Your fingers gripped my hand so tight, your knuckles turning white, as if I were the only thing keeping you from drifting away. As you pulled me closer, the scent of sandalwood clinging to my jacket wrapped around us like a silent promise.
​"I want to believe you," you whispered, your voice small and hollow. You finally looked at me, and your eyes were so empty it hurt more than any tear could. A small, tired smile flickered on your face—the kind that didn’t even try to reach your eyes.
​"But after everything... I don't know what to do with a label like 'diamond.' It feels safer to stay a pebble. At least down there, no one expects me to shine. At least down there, I can't be broken again."
...
