Chapter 12: Broken Pieces

I knew it wasn't going to be easy. Amir wasn't the type to trust people. Hell, he wasn't even the type to let people get close enough to know how hurt he was. But the more time I spent with him, the more I realized how much of his pain was buried deep, beneath the surface. And the worst part was, he didn't know how to let go of it.

I wasn't stupid. I could see the way he flinched every time someone mentioned love, or how he'd shut down whenever things got too real. It was like he was always bracing for impact—like he was waiting for someone to leave him. Waiting for me to leave him. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't going anywhere. That I wasn't like all the people who'd walked away from him before. But it wasn't enough. The words weren't enough.

It was the little things, the way his eyes would flicker to the door when things got quiet between us, or the way he always had one foot out the door whenever we hung out, like he was expecting me to suddenly drop him. I could feel it in his hesitations, the way his body language closed off at times. He was scared. So damn scared of getting hurt.

I wanted to be patient, but there were times when it felt like I was losing him piece by piece. I couldn't make him trust me if he wasn't ready. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell to see him pull away every time I tried to get closer. I needed him to believe me. To believe that I wasn't like the others. That I wasn't going anywhere.

It was late in the afternoon when we went for a walk. The air was cool, and the sunset was just starting to paint the sky in shades of pink and orange. We didn't say much at first, just walking side by side in silence, but the weight between us felt heavier than usual. I could sense it—Amir was in his head again, pulling away, retreating into himself.

"So," I finally said, breaking the silence, "have you thought about what I said the other night?"

He looked over at me, his face unreadable, but I could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. "Yeah," he mumbled, his voice low. "I've been thinking about it a lot, actually."

"About us?" I asked carefully, watching him as we walked. I needed to know where his head was at. I needed to understand if he was still pushing me away or if he was starting to let me in.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just... I don't know how to do this, Isaiah. I've never been good at this. I don't know what to do when people don't leave. I'm used to being alone."

I felt my chest tighten at his words. This wasn't the first time he'd said something like this. I knew it wasn't easy for him. I knew the damage that had been done to him by people who should've loved him, but had instead walked away.

"I get that," I said softly. "But I'm not going anywhere, Amir. You don't have to do this alone. You've got me. And I'm not gonna leave you."

He didn't look at me. Instead, his gaze was fixed straight ahead, his steps slowing down slightly. I wanted to reach out to him, pull him close, but I didn't want to push him. Not yet.

"I want to believe that," he said quietly, his voice cracking just a little. "But I've been let down so many times. I don't know how to trust anyone anymore."

"You don't have to trust me right away," I said. "I'm not asking you to just give me your trust. I'm asking you to let me show you that I'm different. That I'm not like the others."

He finally glanced at me then, his eyes a little guarded but soft enough to show he was listening. "How do you expect me to just forget everything that's happened? I can't just—"

"Amir," I interrupted, stepping in front of him so he had to stop walking. "I'm not asking you to forget anything. I'm asking you to feel safe enough to be here with me. To let me prove to you that I won't leave you. That I'm not just another person who's gonna hurt you. You don't have to forget the past, but you don't have to carry it all by yourself either."

He was quiet for a long time after that. His eyes were on the ground, his jaw clenched, like he was battling with something inside him. I could see the struggle in him, the battle between wanting to believe me and being too afraid to.

"I'm scared, Isaiah," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared that if I let you in, you'll hurt me too. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to love someone and not have them leave me."

It felt like my heart cracked wide open hearing him say that. Amir didn't just have walls up—he had a fortress built around him. A fortress made from years of pain, loss, and betrayal. And here I was, standing on the other side, trying to convince him that I wouldn't hurt him. That I wasn't going anywhere.

"You don't have to be scared of me, Amir," I said softly, stepping closer, my voice firm but gentle. "I'm not going anywhere. And I'm not asking you to be perfect. I'm just asking you to give me a chance. A chance to show you that I'm here. A chance to show you that you're not alone."

I reached out, gently placing my hand on his arm, and for a moment, he didn't pull away. His breath hitched in his throat, and I could feel the tension in his body, like he was caught between wanting to lean into me and wanting to run.

"I don't know if I can do this," he said, his voice shaky now. "I don't know if I can let you in."

"You don't have to be perfect, Amir," I repeated, stepping closer, letting my hand rest on his. "You just have to trust me. And trust yourself enough to know that you're worth loving."

For a second, we just stood there, in the middle of the street, the world moving around us but feeling like it was frozen. And then, something in Amir seemed to shift. I could see it in the way he relaxed just a little. In the way his gaze softened, like maybe he was starting to believe me.

"I don't want to hurt anymore," he whispered, almost to himself.

I gently lifted his chin so that our eyes met, and I gave him the most serious look I could muster. "You won't. Not with me. I promise."

And that was when I saw it. The flicker of hope in his eyes. The tiny crack in his armor. It was small. So small that if I hadn't been paying attention, I would've missed it. But it was there. And for the first time, I believed that maybe he was starting to trust me. Starting to let go of the fear, piece by piece.

Amir's POV

I wasn't sure what to say after that. I felt like I had so much to say, so many things I wanted to explain, but I couldn't get the words out. So, instead, I just nodded, my throat tight.

For the first time, though, I didn't feel like I had to pull away. I didn't feel like I had to shut down or hide how I was feeling.

Isaiah's hand was still on mine, warm and steady, and I realized then that maybe it wasn't as scary as I thought. Maybe it wasn't about fixing myself. Maybe it was about letting someone else in, letting them see the broken parts of me and still choose to stay.

And maybe—just maybe—I could trust Isaiah enough to do that.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Amir," Isaiah said again, his voice low, soft, and full of conviction.

I swallowed hard. "I'm trying, Isaiah. I'm really trying."

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like that was enough.