Rebirth: Love me Again-Chapter 353: Dylan’s POV

[DYLAN]

Lina laughed—freely, brightly—her hand flying to her mouth as she leaned back on the wooden park bench.

Daniel had just finished another ridiculous impersonation of the bookstore owner from earlier, and despite herself, she couldn’t help but giggle.

She hadn’t laughed like this in a long time. Not like this. Not with such ease.

The early evening sun cast golden shadows across the grass, and children played nearby while birds chirped lazily from the trees.

Daniel smiled beside her, pleased with the reaction, and offered her a caramel coffee from the takeaway bag. She took it, their fingers brushing, and for a moment, her smile faltered. But then she took a sip and nodded, heart warm and light.

They had spent the day strolling through the park, watching an old black-and-white movie at a small arthouse cinema, and browsing a quiet, dusty bookstore where Lina had lost track of time reading poetry while Daniel leafed through historical fiction.

Nothing extravagant.

Nothing loud or demanding.

Just simple, quiet days filled with the kind of companionship that made her feel steady, calm, and—slowly—healed.

And all the while, Dylan watched from a distance.

He always kept a safe space. Not too close. Never intrusive. Just far enough to remain unseen, yet near enough to fulfill his duty. That was his promise.

But that didn’t mean he was unaffected.

He had known this day would come eventually. Had told himself again and again that it would be for the best.

Lina deserved happiness, warmth, a future with someone who could offer her the world—not the shadows of one. She deserved laughter and books and careless afternoons, not someone who came from the ash and blood of war.

Still . . . when he saw her smile at Daniel like that—like she used to smile at him before she learned how to guard her heart—something sharp twisted inside Dylan’s chest.

Jealousy? Maybe.

But he killed it the moment it rose.

He had no right to it, not anymore. He wasn’t her lover. He never was. Just a boy taken in by her father, raised to be her protector.

And he had sworn to himself, to Cole Fay, and to the gods above that he would remain nothing more.

Her shield. Her silent shadow.

It should have been enough.

Yet even so, he couldn’t help but remember.

The way her fingers had once lingered too long on his sleeve when she helped him with his uniform. The quiet nights on the balcony when she’d talk about her dreams, not noticing how his eyes never left her lips.

The softness in her voice when she’d whisper goodnight. The way his heartbeat had stumbled every time she smiled at him like he was more than just a soldier.

But none of that mattered now.

Daniel made her laugh, and that was all Dylan needed to know.

Still, as he leaned against the brick wall across the street, watching her laugh through the glass of the bookstore, a part of him felt something break.

Slowly. Quietly. The way a frozen lake cracks in spring—silent and deadly beneath the surface.

Lina didn’t see him, of course. She wouldn’t. She rarely looked for him anymore, and that, too, was good. It meant she was finally forgetting. Moving on.

He should be proud. Relieved.

Instead, he closed his eyes and exhaled through clenched teeth.

He was nothing but a soldier. A war orphan with scars too deep to heal and a name that carried no legacy of its own. He didn’t belong in her world of libraries and warm tea and kind men who could talk about the constellations. What did he know of romance? Of poetry? Of soft things?

He knew the sound of gunfire, the weight of blood on his hands, the silence after a kill. He knew how to disappear in a crowd, how to watch a perimeter, how to shield a girl from a bullet without blinking.

But he didn’t know how to hold her without trembling.

He didn’t know how to speak when his chest burned with words he could never say.

She deserved more than that. More than him.

And that’s why he stayed in the shadows.

Even now, as her laughter faded into a smile and she tucked her arm around Daniel’s as they walked back to the car, Dylan stayed frozen in place, hidden in the slow swirl of city dusk.

He remembered the day he made the vow.

Cole had pulled him aside, voice firm but eyes sharp, like he already knew the future Dylan couldn’t yet see. "My daughter is precious," Cole had said. "She’s my only daughter. And I trust you, Dylan. Not because you’re strong, but because you’re loyal. That girl will have a hard life. You make sure she never feels alone in it not as a lover but as her protector. Even if it costs you everything. You understand?"

Dylan had understood. He still did.

He had given everything. Every piece of himself. His loyalty. His time. His body.

But some things, he realized, were not his to give.

Lina never belonged to him. She never would. And if Daniel was the man to carry her into the future, to protect her smile and walk beside her without shadows clinging to his feet, then Dylan would let go.

Even if it shattered him.

She deserved a world brighter than the one Dylan could give. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel-com

Still, as he walked away from the bookstore, boots heavy against the pavement, he allowed himself one selfish thought:

That maybe, just maybe, there would be a day when she would remember him—not as the soldier who guarded her, not as the boy from the war, but as the man who loved her so deeply that he chose to never let her know.

Because sometimes, love meant staying in the background.

Sometimes it meant never being chosen.

Sometimes it meant watching the woman you’d die for build a life with someone else—because that life, that happiness, was the only thing that ever mattered.

Even if it didn’t include you.

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