“He placed the custody of his heart in her hands.”

The only one he would trust to catch him when he fell. It felt impossible to believe it was coincidence—as if every loss, every heartbreak, every quiet endurance had refined her into the one vessel strong enough to hold what he released. He trusted her with the part of himself he guarded most—the fragile hope he barely believed in, the fear beneath his anger, the soft center always braced for hurt. He trusted her enough to let himself fail in front of her. He placed the custody of his heart in her hands. Not with fragile fingers.