“Mia,” his voice cracked. “You understand, don’t you?”

I gasp as I hold the knife inches away from my already bleeding wrist. This is number four, and I needs to be the last.

I shake my head, my hands shaking as he holds one of his out to me. “You can’t do this.” I cry softly, tears slowly tickling down my cheeks.

He keeps his hand out, his black eyes filled with tears. Tears for me. “I can,” he murmurs. “I’m not gonna let you down.”

I shut my eyes, letting the knife fall from my fingers. My wrist starts stinging, a sharp pain I hadn’t even noticed before.

“Why?” My voice trembles as I choke out sobs. “Why do you care?”

He lowers his hand, inching closer to me on my bedroom floor. “Mia,” he says his eyes glued on mine. “The real question is: why do you question my love for you?”

I swallow unable to breathe. Everything freezes. Everything but us. “Because I don’t deserve you.”

“Then why am I here?”

I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know.” I whisper.

“I don’t know how else to prove it to you,” he mumbles, a single tear sliding down his beautiful face. A face that’s even more perfect with tears. “I love you Mia. Why don’t you see that?”

My wrist throbs as I lower my eyes from his. “I do . . . I want to.”

“Open your eyes. Look in front of you, look at me.” He lifts one of his gentle hands to my cheek, his touch warm.

I meet his gaze. It all makes sense, why I don’t deserve him. He’s so beautiful, he’s so kind, he he’s everything I could ever have dreamed of. And dreams don’t come true.

“I love you,” he whispers his voice strong, confident.

I nod once, his hand still on my cheek. “Okay.”

A small smile pulls at his lips. “Good.”

Without hesitation he leans close to me, his lips inches from mine, the setting sun glinting in his eyes.

“Wait,” I mumble as my hand rises up to his. “Once you do this. You can never go back. You understand?”

He lets out a small laugh. “Mia, I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I first saw you. I’m not gonna break your heart.”

Then it all ended. My pain, my heart break. Everything. I was finally okay, in his arms, I could be or do anything. Just like he’d told me.