DRAVEN'S POV.
I took one step toward her. She flinched in self-defense. Like she expected me to lash out again.
My heart cracked. I softened everything—my voice, my stance, even my breathing.
"Selin," I whispered again. "Don't go."
Her lip wobbled, and she looked away quickly, as if ashamed of her own face.
"You yelled at me," she said in a small voice.
"You always act like I'm doing something wrong."
I swallowed hard.
"I know," I said softly.
"And I'm sorry."
She blinked, stunned, as if those words were something she never expected from me.
Truth was…
No one had heard me speak that softly in a decade.
I moved closer, slow and deliberate. I wanted to touch her cheek, I wanted to wipe every tear, but I hesitated, fingers hovering near her face.
She lifted her gaze to mine, a look of quiet permission. And I didn't even think…I pulled her against my chest.
Her breath hitched, her fingers gripping the front of my shirt as if holding on to something she didn't want to lose.
