North POV

“Please… let him still care.”

A knock came.

I froze.

Like a statue, breath caught in my throat. My body locked up so tightly it felt like my ribs were welded shut.

Another knock followed—this one firmer. Louder. Meant to be heard.

Then came the sound I wasn’t ready for.

The doorknob turned.

Time slowed.

I could hear the soft click as it gave way, followed by the quiet creak of the door swinging open.

My heart thundered so violently I thought it might burst out of my chest. It wasn’t just pounding—it was slamming. Tripping. Fighting against my ribcage like it was trying to escape before I fell apart.

And then—

He stepped inside.

Johan.

His presence alone was enough to drain the oxygen from the room.

He stood in the doorway like a shadow—tall, cold, still. His broad shoulders squared, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. His eyes scanned the room, flickering across my mess of a blanket nest… the half-folded hoodie at the foot of my bed… the crumpled tissues I hadn’t managed to hide…

Then his gaze landed on the thermometer on the floor.

He walked over and picked it up.

That one small action felt louder than anything else.

I swallowed hard.

“P… Phi—” I tried to speak, but my voice cracked mid-word. I pressed my lips together, ashamed of how pathetic I sounded.

Just seeing him again—just having him this close—made everything I’d been pretending didn’t hurt came rushing back all at once. The guilt. The self-loathing. The heartbreak.

God, it was so much worse up close.

He didn’t respond. Didn’t even blink.

“How’s your fever?” he asked finally, voice flat. Distant.

I blinked, caught off guard.

“Huh? Oh—I…” I fumbled, heat creeping up my neck. “It’s fine. I’m… fine,” I mumbled, the lie falling out like wet paper.

He took a slow step forward.

The air between us shifted—heavier now, weighted with unspoken things.

“Can we talk?” I asked, softly, hesitantly.

His eyes met mine, cold and unreadable. That mask—stoic, composed, impenetrable—it used to make me curious. Now it terrified me.

“I only came because Hill asked me to,” he said, voice clipped, already turning to leave.

Panic detonated inside me.

No. No no no no.

“Wait—please!” I burst out, stumbling out from under the covers.

I moved on instinct, desperate, before I could stop myself.

I ran to him—and wrapped my arms around him from behind.

He went rigid in an instant.

His entire body tensed under my touch like I’d shocked him with a live wire. I pressed my face into his back, eyes squeezing shut as tears broke loose again.

“Phi,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Please.”

His voice came out low. Cold. Controlled.

“Brat. Let go of me.”

It stung like a slap.

But I didn’t move.

“I know I’m the last person you want to hear from right now,” I said through a sob. “I know what I did was beyond stupid. That dare—it was childish. Cruel. I should’ve never agreed to it. I should’ve told you the truth before you found out that way.”

My voice cracked again.

“But… my feelings, Phi?” I breathed. “They weren’t fake. None of it was. I wasn’t pretending when I laughed with you. I wasn’t pretending when I stayed up making your lunch, or when I waited in the sunlight just to see you win that football game…”

I squeezed my eyes shut, fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt.

“I wasn’t pretending when I looked at you and thought… ‘God, I’m falling for him.’”

He still didn’t say anything.

But he wasn’t walking away either.

I released the hug slowly and stepped around to face him.

His eyes were on me—steady, unreadable—but something in them had shifted. There was a crack now. A tiny fracture in the ice.

“I know I messed up,” I said, wiping my cheeks with the sleeve of my hoodie. “I know you don’t owe me anything. But I needed you to hear it from me—not from anyone else.”

I hesitated.

Then I reached up, gently cupped his face in both hands—his skin warm under my touch, his expression unreadable—and I leaned in.

I kissed him.

Soft.

Lingering.

A confession in the shape of lips and trembling breath.

He didn’t kiss me back. Didn’t push me away either. Just… stood there, stunned.

When I finally pulled away, the silence between us roared louder than ever.

Tears clung to my lashes.

“I’ve always told people I was saving my first kiss, myself,” I whispered, voice hoarse. “Saving it for someone who mattered. Someone who really meant something.”

I swallowed hard.

“I gave that to you, Phi. Because you’re the only one I ever wanted to give it to.”

His expression didn’t change.

Didn’t soften.

But he was listening.

So I kept going—because if I stopped now, I’d never forgive myself.

“I love you,” I said, breath hitching.

“I love you so much it hurts. And I know I don’t deserve to say it, not after what I did. But it’s the truth.”

“I love you when you’re silent. When you’re angry. When you’re impossible to read. I love the way you see through people, the way you push me to grow, the way you look at me like I’m more than just a brat who won’t shut up.”

I took a shaky breath.

“And I don’t care if it takes weeks, or months, or years for you to forgive me. I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever if I have to. Because you’re worth it.”

Silence.

Heavy. Suspended. Hanging between us like a held breath.

He looked at me like he was trying to figure out if this was real—if I was real. If he could trust it this time.

And I stood there—bare, broken, and waiting.