Mia lifted the spoon to her lips, the steam curling delicately against her face. The first sip made her eyes widen. The soup was rich, savory—seasoned perfectly, with just enough heat to linger on her tongue. She let out a soft hum, then tried a bite of the stir-fried vegetables and meat, the flavors blending in a way that felt almost... indulgent.
"Hm," she murmured, unable to stop the smile tugging at her lips. "This is superb. You actually nailed it, Liam."
Liam's head snapped up like he needed to make sure she'd really said it. For a second, he just stared at her, spoon forgotten in his hand. Then, slowly, a grin curved across his lips—lazy, boyish, but with that dangerous edge that always made her pulse skip.
"Careful," he drawled, leaning forward a little. "If you keep praising me like that, I might start thinking you're falling for my cooking... or for me."
Mia choked on a laugh. "Please. You barely have time to breathe, let alone cook. This is a miracle in itself."
"Miracles happen when you're around," he said easily, voice low enough to make the words hum between them.
She froze, spoon halfway to her mouth, heart thudding so loudly she swore he could hear it. "You're ridiculous," she muttered, trying to look anywhere but at him.
He only chuckled, that deep, smooth sound that always made her insides twist. "Maybe. But I meant what I said."
Her gaze flicked up, just for a heartbeat—and regretted it instantly. His eyes were fixed on her, warm and intent, like the rest of the world had gone quiet.
"I can cook for you anytime you want," he said softly. "Breakfast, lunch, dinner... midnight cravings. Name it."
"Liam," she warned, though her voice came out weaker than she intended.
He tilted his head, that grin deepening. "What? I'm just saying I like feeding you. Watching you enjoy it is... kind of addictive."
Her pulse stuttered. "You're impossible."
"Maybe." He leaned back in his chair, smirk curving slow and confident. "But you're still smiling."
Mia tried to school her expression, but the warmth in her chest betrayed her. She looked down, cheeks burning, and muttered, "You're incorrigible."
Liam's reply was soft, dangerous. "Only when it comes to you."
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken things. The clatter of the pan cooling on the stove, the faint hiss of oil still sizzling—it all seemed too loud in the stillness.
Finally, she forced herself to laugh again, though it came out softer than she meant. "Don't look at me like that. You're going to make me choke on my food."
But Liam only leaned back in his chair, his smile slow and infuriatingly confident. "Then maybe you should stop pretending you don't like the way I'm looking at you."
Mia's heart stumbled. She quickly shoved another bite into her mouth, as if the food could hide the storm building inside her.
"Liam," Mia began, her voice low but steady, though he could hear the storm trembling underneath it. "Whatever you do, I will never believe you again. It was hard for me to get over you. You have no idea what I've been through. When you said those words—when you turned your back on me and left—it felt like I died that day." Her throat caught, but she forced the words out anyway. "I'm just thankful I had friends like Josh and Daniel to pull me through."
Each word hit him like a lash. Liam's hands curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms, but he couldn't bring himself to move, to speak, to stop her. Because she was right. Every word of it.
She drew a sharp breath, her gaze flickering toward him, full of fire and something that twisted deep inside his chest. "But don't worry—I'm fine now. I'm really good." She gave a bitter laugh that made his heart squeeze painfully.
"And I'm thankful you were honest in the end. You ended things brutally, yes. But at least you had the heart to shatter me in front of the entire academy."
He flinched. God, he remembered that day—the crowd, the sharp silence after his words, the way her eyes had widened like he'd struck her across the face. He had told himself it was necessary, that it was better this way, but nothing in him believed that lie now.
Her voice softened, but the ache in it was worse than her anger. "Do you know what's funny? I still wished, even then, that you'd ended things with me privately. At least I could've saved my pride. But you—" her lips trembled as she shook her head. "You're Liam Alcaraz. You have all the privilege, all the right to say whatever you want. Without ever caring how the people around you feel."
Liam's chest constricted. He wanted to speak, to explain, to tell her how every day since then had been hell for him too. That walking away from her hadn't been strength—it had been weakness, cowardice. That he had watched her crumble and wanted nothing more than to catch her, but had forced himself not to.
But his throat burned, and nothing came out. His eyes followed her as she straightened her back, as if carrying the weight of years and still refusing to bow under it.
"I should go," Mia whispered, her tone clipped now, controlled. "Excuse me."
She turned before he could gather the courage to stop her. Liam's body tensed, every instinct screaming to reach for her, to beg her to listen, but his feet were rooted to the floor. His jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling unevenly as her words replayed like shards cutting into him.
For the first time in years, Liam Alcaraz—the boy who once believed he could have anything—felt the crushing weight of something he had lost, and wasn't sure he could ever win back.
Liam didn't know how to talk to Mia again—not after the storm of words she had hurled at him, each one laced with the pain of years. She had told him how hard it was to face the world after he shattered hers with a single kiss and hurtful words, and the memory burned him alive.
Shame gnawed at him, sharp and relentless. Yet beneath it, a twisted sliver of pride lingered, because he had convinced himself he'd done it for her. He had broken her heart to protect her. At least, that's what he told himself when the silence grew too heavy at night.
But even as the thought tried to comfort him, it turned sour in his chest. Protecting her had made him into a monster in her eyes. And what good was protection if it left her bleeding?
There had been no gentle way to do it then. He'd known that. But knowing hadn't made it any easier to watch her break. His father had demanded the public severing—on graduation day, in front of everyone—because it was the cleanest way to erase her from his world.
Liam had stood in front of her that day, his hand curled into a fist, his throat raw, and told her the words that ended them. The cheers and applause of their classmates had rung in his ears while he watched Mia's eyes widen in horror, her lips part as though she'd been stabbed.
He remembered the way her shoulders had straightened, the way she had walked away with her chin raised even as he'd seen the tremor in her steps.
He had told himself he'd done the right thing. That he was giving her freedom, sparing her from being bound to a life tangled in his family.
But right now, sitting across from her years later, everything felt unbearably wrong.
All he wanted was for Mia to be happy, to achieve the dreams she once whispered to him beneath the stars. And now she had. She had carved her own place in the world, a woman of strength, success, and fire. And Liam... he wanted nothing more than to be part of that life again.
But how could he, when the sound of her voice, sharp and trembling with hurt, told him she still hated him? When every time she looked at him, he saw not the boy she had once loved, but the ghost of the man who destroyed her?
If he could take her pain away—every ounce of it—he would do it in a heartbeat. He would trade his fortune, his name, every piece of power he owned, if it meant she would smile at him again. But no amount of wealth could buy back what he had stolen. No gold could purchase her forgiveness.
It gutted him more than words could say. And worse—he had no idea how to fix it. Every sweet word he longed to say, every promise that ached to spill from his tongue, would only sound like poison to her. She didn't believe him anymore. She thought he had come back only to reopen the scars he had left on her heart, to twist the knife until she broke all over again.
And maybe she was right. Maybe he had no right to want her back.
But still, Liam knew this with bone-deep certainty: he couldn't walk away from her a second time. Not again. Not when every cell in his body still ached for her. But Mia wanted nothing from him. She had made that perfectly clear. She wanted him to keep his distance—and God help him, it was killing him.