Julian stood, the distance between them evaporating. "Because I thought I was dead inside, Elena. I spent three years convinced that my heart was just a muscle that moved blood." He took her hand, placing it over his chest. Under her palm, the rhythm was frantic, uneven. "But every time you walk into the room, it starts to beat for the first time."
The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Julian’s Manhattan penthouse, but inside, the silence was even colder.
"Why do you look at me like I’m a puzzle you can't solve?" she whispered.
Elena didn't pull away. She leaned in, her breath warm against his skin. "Maybe you didn't need a miracle, Julian. You just needed a reason to wake up."