It started with something small.
Reyhan had been quieter all evening.
Not distant.
Just… thoughtful.
Aira noticed it the way she noticed everything about him now.
They were sitting on the terrace again. Same spot. Same city lights.
But the air felt heavier.
"You've been somewhere else," she said softly.
He didn't deny it.
"Just thinking."
"About?"
He exhaled slowly.
"About how easy it would be to mess this up."
The honesty startled her.
"You're the one who's steady," she replied.
"I'm human," he said. "And I know how I can get. When I'm stressed. When I shut down."
She listened carefully.
"I don't want to disappear into myself and leave you guessing," he continued.
The fact that he was saying this before it happened mattered more than she could explain.
"You won't," she said quietly.
"You don't know that."
"I know you're aware of it. That's enough."
He looked at her then—really looked.
"And if I do pull away?"
Aira felt that familiar instinct rise—the urge to prepare, to retreat first.
But she didn't move.
"If you pull away," she said slowly, "I won't assume you're leaving."
He watched her carefully.
"I won't be the first to let go," she added.
Silence followed.
Not tense.
Just deep.
Reyhan stepped closer.
"You don't have to carry us alone," he said softly.
"I'm not."
"You always think you will."
That wasn't wrong.
But tonight felt different.
She wasn't bracing.
She wasn't rehearsing heartbreak.
She was choosing to stay.
Even in the possibility of imperfection.
He reached for her hand.
She squeezed back.
No dramatic reassurance.
No forever promises.
Just two people acknowledging that loving someone meant risking the parts that weren't polished.
That night, when she wrote, her words felt heavier—but stronger.
RULE #98: Don't be the first to let go.
If it's worth holding,
fight your instinct to run.