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"And we're both terrible at believing we're worth loving," he almost whispered. The truth of his words stole her breath. She hadn't realized he'd seen that too.

"I spent years believing that if I were prettier—” She swallowed. "Or smarter, or quieter, someone would finally love me enough not to hurt me."

Soren's jaw clenched, but he didn't interrupt her, and he didn’t tell her she was wrong. He simply listened.

"My ex used to tell me I made him angry." Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "If dinner wasn't ready, or if the laundry wasn't folded, even if I smiled at the grocery store cashier—” She wrapped her arms around herself. "It was always somehow my fault."

Soren crossed the remaining distance between them. He didn't touch her immediately. He waited, giving her every opportunity to step away, but she didn't. "You never made anyone hurt you." His voice was calm, but certain. "They chose to."

Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. "I know that now that I’m here with you." She touched her temple. "But it hasn’t made it here yet.” She placed a hand over her heart.

Soren's expression softened. "It will."

"How do you know?"

"Because every day—” He gently brushed away a tear with his thumb. "I’ll help you to believe it a little more."

She leaned into his touch before she even realized she was doing it. "I want to believe it."

“I know,” he whispered.

She laughed quietly through her tears. "You always know. I think that's becoming my favorite thing about you."

His thumb lingered against her cheek. "And what's your least favorite?"

She laughed. "You still give too many orders."

"I've been improving,” he said, feigning hurt.

"You have,” she agreed.

"I've only ordered you around twice today."

She raised an eyebrow. "Three times—I counted."

A genuine smile spread across his face. “I missed your smile today,” he said. He looked at her exactly the way he'd drawn her—like she was something extraordinary. The room seemed to disappear around them. She wasn't standing in Soren's office anymore. She wasn't the frightened woman who had witnessed a murder. She wasn't the broken woman who apologized for existing. She was simply Lily—seen, accepted, wanted, and even loved. That was how Soren made her feel.

The realization arrived so quietly that it almost escaped her. She loved him. She stepped forward until only inches separated them. "I've been trying not to fall in love with you."

Soren didn't look surprised. "I know."

"You knew?" she squeaked.

"I guess it was more like me hoping that you were falling in love with me."

She laughed. "Those aren't the same things."

"They're close,” he insisted.

She shook her head, smiling through fresh tears. "No, they're really not."

He reached for both of her hands. "I was waiting for you to admit it first. I didn’t want to push you, babygirl."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you were still healing."

She rolled her eyes at him. “And?” she asked.