The clock ticked slowly, deliberately, almost cruelly. Every second stretched Kryzelle’s anxiety tighter, winding around her chest like a steel wire. She sat on the edge of her bed, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, as if controlling it could somehow control the chaos outside. Zander leaned against the doorway, his silhouette sharp in the dim light of her apartment. His eyes, dark and stormy, followed her every movement. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he said softly, voice low, carrying that dangerous mix of command and care she had come to rely on. Kryzelle swallowed, trying to steady her racing thoughts. “I know,” she whispered. “But… I don’t want to make it worse.” Zander stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered at her jaw, tilting her face toward him. “Nothing can make it worse if we face it together. Promise me you trust me.” Her chest tightened. “I… I do.” The room seemed to shrink as they stood close, breaths mi
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