Tears filled her eyes, burning hot.
"I don't know how to believe that," she confessed, voice cracking. "I want to… but I'm so tired of being proven wrong."
Logan reached for her hand, slowly, giving her every second to pull away.
She didn't.
He held her trembling fingers, pressed them to his lips.
"Then let me prove you wrong for once," he whispered. "Let me be the one thing you don't have to run from."
And in that moment, with all the scars unspoken between them, Jean didn't say a word. She just gripped his hand tighter… like it was the only thing anchoring her to a world that still had a chance to feel safe.
The room was dim, the soft hum of machines the only sound between them. Logan still held her hand… warmer now, though trembling… and Jean had yet to let go.
But something in her eyes had changed. That sharp edge of defiance softened, replaced by something deeper. Wounded. Guarded.
