Michelle Lui's POV
We kept walking after the selfie — or rather, my legs walked while my brain floated ten feet above my body, replaying that moment on a hypnotic loop.
Because I want one with you.
Someone I want to remember.
Who says that?
Who says that so quietly, so sincerely, so casually devastating?
I was a 30-year-old soul shoved into a teenage body, but right now my heart was acting like it was twelve.
Everything inside me felt like:
KA-THUNK.
KA-BOOM.
KA-GOOD-LORD-GIRL-CALM-DOWN.
The air was warm for late afternoon, sunlight pooling like liquid gold across the walkway. Vendors called out softly, wind chimes tinkled from a nearby stall, and the smell of brown sugar waffles still clung to the air like a comforting blanket.
Steven walked beside me, hands in his pockets, eyes forward, shoulders relaxed in a way I had never seen before.
Not tight. Not guarded.
Just… open.
Like he'd laid something down.
Like being beside me wasn't effort anymore.
Just choice.
