(Michelle Lui's POV)
The rooftop felt bigger when everyone else faded into the background.
Bigger… and quieter.
The fire crackled softly between us, sending tiny sparks upward like nervous breaths. The wind brushed through the lanterns, making them sway gently as if the whole rooftop was holding its breath.
Steven stood still.
So still that the air around him felt frozen.
His hands were in his pockets — a familiar gesture, something he always did when he was bracing himself. His shoulders were tense, jaw set, but his eyes…
His eyes were bare.
No walls.
No polite distance.
No unreadable mask.
Just Steven.
The one I loved before.
The one I lost after wedding vows and four years of silent ache.
The one who never knew me in this life, but somehow kept gravitating toward me anyway.
He took one step closer.
Not enough to invade my space.
Just enough to show he wasn't running.
Not this time.
"Michelle," he said softly.
