Between Us

☆ part fifty two ☆

Larks pov

The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, casting the room in a quiet glow. It painted the edges of the bed in warmth, but I didn't dare move. Sophie was wrapped around me, her body pressed so tightly against mine it was as if she thought I might vanish if she let go. Her fingers were tangled in the fabric of my shirt, clutching it with a desperation that made my chest ache. Her grip wasn't strong, not physically, but the weight of her need tethered me to her in a way that was unshakable.

I glanced down at her, taking in the peacefulness of her sleeping face. Her lashes rested delicately against her cheeks, her soft breaths warm against my skin, but even in her dreams, I could see the lingering traces of last night's storm. Her brows furrowed faintly, lips parted as if she was whispering words she couldn't voice in waking. The red in her cheeks, the puffiness around her eyes—remnants of the tears she'd cried, tears that had carved deep cracks into my heart. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and gently brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. Her hair was messy, her blonde waves tangled from the way she'd buried herself into me last night, and even now, she burrowed closer, her face tucked into the curve of my shoulder. The weight of her trust, her need for comfort, was humbling. She had been so raw, so broken, yet she'd come to me, letting her pain bleed into my arms.

And God, I'd hold her forever if it meant she'd never feel that way again.

I sighed quietly, my fingers brushing over her temple and then down to her cheek. Her skin was so soft, so fragile under my touch, as if the world had been too cruel to someone as delicate and full of light as her. I didn't know how anyone could look at Sophie—pure, sweet, selfless Sophie—and choose to hurt her. The memory of it broke me. The look of heartbreak in Sophie's eyes... It shattered me. How could someone do that? How could someone be so heartless to their own daughter? Sophie, who only ever tried to make everyone happy. Sophie, whose heart was so big it could hold the entire world in its grasp. She didn't deserve any of it—not the rejection, not the shame, not the crushing weight of her mother's disapproval.

She deserved the world. And I'd give it to her. Every last piece of it, if it meant she'd never feel this kind of pain again.

I kissed her forehead softly, lingering there as I closed my eyes and let the moment sink into me. She stirred faintly at the touch, her fingers tightening their grip on my shirt, and she pressed herself even closer. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought she might wake, but she settled again, her breathing returning to its steady rhythm. My chest ached at the way she clung to me, her body curled so tightly against mine as if I were her lifeline. I rested my chin against the top of her head, my hand trailing softly over her back in a soothing motion. "I'm not going anywhere, Sophie," I whispered, my voice breaking slightly despite myself. "Not ever." Because I wouldn't. I couldn't. She was everything. Every reason to stay, every reason to fight.

I thought about the night before, the way she had run to me, her sobs so raw they had shaken her entire body. The way she'd looked up at me, her eyes searching mine as if she was waiting for me to say it wasn't real, that her mother's words hadn't actually been said. And the helplessness I'd felt in that moment—it had been suffocating. She was still holding on tightly in her sleep, her grip unrelenting, and I smiled weakly as I brushed my thumb over the back of her hand. She didn't need to cling to me so desperately out of fear that I might leave. I would never leave her. She was my gravity, my anchor, the one thing in my life that felt real and solid and worth holding on to.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting her warmth seep into me, her soft breaths steadying my own. She was so precious to me, so vital, and it killed me that she didn't see herself the way I did. She didn't see how much light she brought into the world, how much she meant to me. If only I could take this pain from her, I thought. If only I could shield her from everything that tried to hurt her. But since I couldn't, I would stay right here, holding her through the darkness, reminding her that she was loved—endlessly, fiercely, unconditionally. My hand drifted back to her hair, brushing it gently as I leaned down and pressed another kiss to her forehead. "I've got you, Sophie," I murmured softly. "I always will."