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“I need you to let me breathe,” I start, choosing each word with care. “I need you to be okay if I make a choice you don’t agree with. And I need you to stop snapping at the others just because I asked them to stay close.” I pause, meeting his guarded expression. “It’s not just you and me, Z. Oscar, Talon, and Alex—they’re part of this, too. Each of you is in my life in a different way, and I need all of you.”

I take a breath, the next part heavier. “I know you respect what I have with Oscar—your brother. But I need you to extend that respect to the others, too. I can’t keep holding us all together if you won’t even try.”

I hesitate, then push forward. “And I need you to work through your guilt...separately from me.”

Zaire's eyebrows lift slightly at the last suggestion, but he doesn't dismiss it outright, which feels like progress.

“And what about you?”

The question catches me off guard. “What?”

“Relationships go both ways, moya koroleva. If I'm making changes, what are you offering in return?”

I open my mouth to protest, but the words die on my tongue. He's right. As much as his overprotectiveness suffocates me, my walls push him away just as effectively.

“I need to stop shutting you out completely,” I admit, the confession sitting like gravel in my throat. “When things get bad, I retreat. I always have. But I can't expect you to give me space while keeping you completely in the dark.”

Zaire's expression softens, the tension in his jaw easing slightly.

“I'll try to tell you when the nightmares come,” I continue, “instead of pretending I'm fine. And I'll...I'll stop acting like I'm the only one who's hurting. What happened affected you, too.”

His hand slides to the nape of my neck, his touch gentle yet grounding. “It did. But not in the same way.”

“Pain isn't a competition, Z.” I lean into his touch despite myself. “And I need to remember that.”

The silence between us feels different now—less charged, more contemplative. Zaire's thumb traces slow circles at the base of my skull, and I fight the urge to close my eyes and surrender to the comfort of his touch.

“So where does this leave us?” he asks finally.

“Somewhere in the middle, I hope. I can't promise I won't need space sometimes. But I can promise not to use it as a weapon against you."

“And what about Oscar and Talon?” Z's voice changes, something sharper edging into his tone. “Do these same rules apply to them? Or is it just me you're pushing away?”

The question hangs between us, loaded with implications. I study his face, the way his jaw tightens as he mentions the other men in my life.

“This isn't about jealousy, Z,” I say carefully, “But yes, the same boundaries apply to everyone. The difference is…” I trail off, trying to find the right words.

“The difference is they respect those boundaries without question,” he finishes for me, a bitter edge to his voice.

I sigh. “The difference is they don't carry the same guilt you do. They don't look at me like I'm something broken they need to fix.”

Zaire's expression falters, vulnerability flashing across his features.

“Oscar has his own demons,” I continue softly. “And Talon...he processes things differently. Alex is well, Alex. But they don’t try to shield me from my own choices the way you do.”

“And that's what makes me the villain in this story. Because I can't stand by and watch you suffer.”

I reach up, cupping his face between my palms. “You're not a villain, Z, but you can't be my savior either. Not in the way you're trying to be.”

“Then what can I be?”

The raw honesty in his question makes my chest ache. “My partner. Someone who stands beside me, not in front of me.”

“I can try to be that.” Each word is deliberate. “But old habits…”

“Die hard. I know. That's why this is a conversation, not an ultimatum. We both need to adjust.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a ghost of his usual smirk. “You're being remarkably reasonable for someone who was ready to throw something at me ten minutes ago.”