34. A Withered Rose

But just as her lips neared his, Jayden pulled back, his movements slow but deliberate. His heart screamed to close the distance, to hold her, to kiss her. He’d wanted to since that night when they danced under the moonlight, when he first realized how deeply he felt for her. But guilt clung to him like a second skin, choking any chance of happiness before it could begin. Rose froze, her breath catching in her throat. His rejection stung more than she wanted to admit. Wiping her tears quickly, she stood, her movements mechanical, her voice barely above a whisper. “I should go,” she said, her lips curving into a forced, fragile smile. “Thank you… for listening.” And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Jayden sitting on the bench, his chest heavy with regret as he watched her retreating figure disappear into the distance. Her steps quickened, each stride fueled by a storm of emotions. Memories and doubts whirled in her mind, making her feet move faster as if trying to outrun t