Chapter 3 THE WEIGHT OF WORDS

Emily heard the knock at her door before she saw him.

She froze in the middle of her living room, a book slipping from her lap, her heart punching against her ribs. For a heartbeat, she told herself it was a neighbor, a delivery, a mistake.

But somehow, deep in the marrow of her bones, she knew.

She padded barefoot across the worn floor, every step heavier than the last. She hesitated, hand trembling just above the doorknob. She could walk away. Pretend she wasn't home. Bury the past under another layer of silence.

But she didn't.

The door creaked open - and there he was.

Jackson stood under the flickering porch light, soaked to the skin, rainwater dripping from his hair, his jacket, his eyelashes. He looked like a man who had wrestled a storm and lost. His hands were jammed deep into his pockets, as if he was holding himself together with sheer force of will.

For a long, stretching moment, neither of them spoke.

Emily felt a hundred emotions crash over her - anger, sorrow, longing, love - a tidal wave of everything she had buried deep inside. She had imagined seeing him again so many times, in so many different ways. She had imagined screaming. She had imagined slamming the door. She had imagined falling into his arms and forgetting every terrible thing.

But standing here now, all she could do was whisper, "Hi."

His lips parted, as if even that small word had knocked the air from his lungs. "Hi," he echoed, his voice rough, unfamiliar with use.

Another silence settled between them, thick and trembling.

"I shouldn't have come," Jackson said after a moment, his eyes searching hers, desperate, apologetic. "But... I couldn't not."

Emily swallowed hard. She could smell the rain on him, sharp and clean, mixed with something that was unmistakably him. Memories swarmed her, unbidden - the feel of his hoodie wrapped around her shoulders, the warmth of his hand finding hers in the dark.

"What do you want, Jackson?" she asked, her voice steady, even though her hands were fists at her sides.

He flinched at the question, as if she had struck him. Good, she thought savagely. Let him feel what she had felt, what she was still feeling. But he didn't back away.

"I want..." he started, then stopped, exhaling a shaky breath. "I don't know if there's anything left to save. I don't know if you even want to hear anything I have to say. But if there's even the smallest chance that you do... I had to try."

Emily's chest ached with the weight of all the things she had never said, all the nights she had cried into her pillow, all the times she had whispered his name into the empty darkness.

"You hurt me," she said, her voice cracking despite herself.

"I know," Jackson said, his voice breaking too. His eyes were shining now, with rain or tears - she couldn't tell. "I hurt you, and I hate myself for it every damn day."

The rain poured harder around them, drumming on the roof, the sidewalk, the world itself. She felt like she was standing on the edge of something vast and terrifying.

"And I hurt you too," Emily whispered, her own confession tearing free. "I didn't fight for us when I should have."

Jackson stepped forward, cautiously, as if she might bolt. His hands were still in his pockets, trembling.

"Maybe we both messed up," he said, voice raw. "Maybe we both forgot that love isn't perfect. It's messy. It's hard. But it's worth it, Emily. You're worth it."

Her throat closed around a sob she refused to release. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to step into the circle of his arms and believe that love could be enough.

But fear was a stubborn thing. Pain was a wall built brick by brick, and she wasn't sure how to tear it down.

"I don't know how to fix us," she said, the truth spilling out between them like blood.

Jackson shook his head slowly, a sad smile touching his lips. "Me either. But maybe... maybe we start with just standing here. Together."

For a moment, Emily didn't move.

Then, slowly, she opened the door a little wider.

Jackson hesitated only a second before stepping inside, dripping and broken, carrying all their mistakes and all their hopes with him.

As the door closed behind them, the rain outside kept falling - washing the world clean.

Inside, two hearts, battered and bruised, stood trembling on the fragile threshold of something new.