Julian's POV
I stared at the glass in my hand like it had answers. It didn't.
Neither did the second one. Or the third.
The scotch burned less now. Or maybe I'd just stopped noticing.
Outside, the sky was turning that color between dusk and nightfall—gray smothered by blue. The kind of sky that doesn't promise anything. Just stares back.
I'd told myself I was done.
Told myself that watching her walk away after everything she'd done would be the end of it.
But I couldn't stop looking at the damn door. As if she might walk back through it. As if she hadn't already chosen someone else before she ever chose me.
God, I was pathetic.
I set the glass down a little too hard.
The sound echoed.
So did her voice.
> "It was just one night."
"We weren't thinking."
"I'm sorry."
I'd believed her. That was the worst part.
Even after all the silence. All the uncertainty. Even after watching her run from every piece of her past, I still thought she'd eventually run to me.
