Page 102 of Try Line Hearts
That was what finally undid him.
Not the kindness.
Not the understanding.
Theboth.
The acknowledgment that this thing he’d just named—this love—was real enough to be spoken of like a shared truth, not a mistake.
Tears slipped free before he could stop them—hot, immediate, humiliating in their honesty. He turned quickly toward the river, shoulders tight, jaw clenched as if he could muscle the feeling back down now that it had escaped.
But it was too late.
He had said it.
And the world—Paris, the lights, the river, the woman beside him—hadn’t ended.
Which meant the love was real.
And that terrified him more than anything else ever had.
“I hope,” Evelyn said quietly behind him, “that someday your heart gets its wish.”
He nodded once, unable to speak.
After a moment, he eased his hand from hers—not abruptly. Just needing space. He reached into his hoodie pocket with his good hand and pulled out a small rectangle wrapped in purple foil.
Cadbury Dairy Milk.
He held it out without looking at her.
“It always makes me feel better,” he said. “Don’t ask me why.”
She took it—and instead of opening it, she slipped it into her coat pocket like it mattered. Like it was something to keep.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Eli wiped at his face, squared his shoulders, and turned back toward the door.
Inside, the warmth and noise rushed to meet him.
Lucas was there—mid-conversation, eyes flicking up the second Eli stepped through the glass. Relief flashed across his face, followed quickly by something wary and hopeful.
“Eli—” Lucas started, already moving.
Eli didn’t stop.
He passed him with a nod that was polite, distant, unmistakably final for the night.
Lucas turned, caught off guard. “Can we—?”
“Not now,” Eli said gently, already angling toward the lifts.
The doors opened. He stepped inside without looking back.
Lucas stood there, words stranded on his tongue, as the elevator doors slid shut between them.
The tower outside kept shining.
