"You're trembling, Savannah. Why are you trembling?" Rhett's voice was quiet but urgent, his fingers wrapped around hers like steel bands, both shielding and restraining.
She blinked up at him. "Because everything around me is changing, and I don't know who to be anymore."
His jaw tightened. The gala crowd still buzzed behind them, but in this small hallway tucked between chandeliers and closed doors, they stood in their own tense bubble.
"Don't say that like you have to stop being who you are. You're allowed to change. You're allowed to grow."
She pulled her hand free slowly, deliberately. "And if growth means becoming someone who can no longer be molded to your expectations?"
Rhett didn't answer right away. His eyes searched hers as if trying to decode a language he had forgotten.
"Then I adapt too," he finally said. "Because I never wanted you molded, Savannah. I wanted you strong."
