?Chapter 1223:


    Watching the warmth return to her expression felt like winning a silent battle.


    When they left the campus, he drove her downtown to the open-air music square.


    The sun was dipping low, gilding the fountain at the center of the za. The water rose and fell to the rhythm of the evening music, catching the light and scattering it like diamonds.


    Marc led her to a quieter corner, away from the crowd. The glow of the fountain shimmered over them, and his voice dropped lower, almost tender.


    “This is where I told you how I felt for the first time. There was a fountain show that night too.” He smiled faintly, his gaze deepening. “I stood right here, trying not to shake, thinking you were going to say no.”


    Back then, he hadn’t been the sessful Mr. Walsh everyone admired.


    He’d been just another student—uncertain, ambitious, hopelessly in love.


    So when he confessed his love, he had been terrified, afraid she’d see him as a poor nobody who could never give her the future she deserved.


    Now, standing in the same spot, he recreated that moment perfectly—his eyes full of sincerity, the same boyish nervousness softened by years of experience.


    Ste’s mind drifted again.


    She could almost see that summer night as if it were unfolding in front of her—the air heavy with the scent of damp grass and faint traces of jasmine. The fountain lights shimmered around them, and a younger Marc stood there, nervous yet determined, his cheeks tinged red as he stumbled over his confession.


    She could still remember how her pulse had quickened, how warmth had bloomed quietly in her chest.


    It was the first time she had ever had feelings for someone, and the first time she had said yes to someone else’s feelings.


    Some moments, she thought, never truly fade.


    Marc’s low chuckle pulled her back. “You really made me wait that night,” he teased, though his tone carried a hint of mockint. “You stood there forever before you said yes. I thought I’d blown my only chance.”


    Steughed, the sound soft and genuine. The confusion and unease that had haunted her for days seemed to dissolve, reced by a gentle, familiar warmth.


    “I remember,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t sleep at all afterward. I just kept thinking about it.”


    She hadn’t hesitated because she was unsure—only because she couldn’t believe that the person she liked had liked her back.


    Watching her eyes light up again, Marc felt a rush of satisfaction.


    It worked. These memories—the ones he’d carefully led her to—had taken root, crowding out anything else that might have lingered.


    Thest rays of sunlight stretched across the square, weaving their shadows together in a golden haze.


    Marc’s gaze softened. Everything—the music, the fading light, the way she looked up at him—fell into ce with perfect timing.


    Slowly, he leaned in, his eyes fixed on her lips, ready to seal the moment with a kiss.


    His breath drew near, warm and steady, carrying a faint trace of aftershave—clean, masculine, disarmingly familiar.


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