(Michelle's POV)
The sun was already dipping when we stepped out of the rooftop café.
Soft amber washed across the buildings, and a gentle breeze swept through the city like it was brushing away the heat of the day. Steven walked beside me, his steps unhurried, like he wasn't ready for anything to end yet.
Honestly?
Neither was I.
We had talked about so many things already:
His dream of building something that mattered.
My salted-fish billionaire-housewife aspirations (which he had teased me about relentlessly).
Our favorite movies.
Our worst cooking disasters.
Places we wanted to travel.
The stupid things Vince had done in middle school.
Andy's ridiculous childhood ambitions (something about wanting to be "the most handsome boy in Asia").
We had laughed so much.
We had fallen into soft, easy silences too.
And now, as the city lights flickered to life — one window, one streetlamp, one glowing sign at a time — I felt that silly, dizzy flutter in my chest again.
