Sienna’s POV


    “If it came to that, then I’d have to ask permission properly from security, wouldn’t I?” he said, popping a piece of sandwich into


    his mouth casually, as though we were having a lighthearted chat, not standing on the fragile edge between the past and wounds


    that had never fully healed.


    I sighed, rolling my eyes. But there was nothing more I could say.


    Silently, I studied him. The way he ate, the way he sat as if he owned the ce, even the way he gazed out my apartment window


    as though it were his, too. Maybe once, it really had been.


    “Why are you like this, Liam?” I blurted suddenly, unable to hold it back. “Why do you keeping, keep pushing your way in, as


    if you have the right to stay by my side?”


    He turned slowly. His gaze softened, grew more serious. No smile now, only a calmness that was almost painful.


    “Because I know, Sienna,” he said quietly. “Because I realize I destroyed the most precious thing in my life. And the only thing


    worse than losing you… is not trying to win you back.”


    His words hit me-not loudly, but like a wound reopening.


    They lingered in the air, hanging like smoke that refused to be cleared away. I lowered my eyes to the table, now scattered with


    crumbs and crumpled brown paper, searching for something solid to keep myself from being swept away by the sudden tide. A dull


    ache began to spread through me, the exact same ache as an old wound I had always thought was sealed shut. But it turned out,


    just one sentence from him was enough to tear that thinyer wide open again.


    I drew a deep breath, forcing myself to steady the erratic rhythm of my heartbeat. It felt like being trapped between two colliding


    worlds-the past full of fractures, and the present I had fought to hold together so I wouldn’t fall apart. His presence blurred


    everything, as though the boundary line I had drawn with such effort was fading away.


    Liam still sat across from me, calm, unhurried. His face was no longer adorned with that infuriating smile, but something heavier,


    more honest. And it was that honesty that made it harder to breathe. A part of me wanted to cover my ears, run, lock every door so


    he could nevere in again. But another part-the part that once knew the warmth of his hand in mine-couldn’t simply turn


    away.


    I turned toward the window, letting my eyes rest on the pale morning sky. Outside, the world moved on, oblivious to the small drama unfolding in my apartment. People walked, cars passed, birds perched on electric wires. It all felt distant, almost foreign. Meanwhile, I was trapped at a tiny dining table with someone who had once been the center of my life-and was now the reason I had learned to stand on my own.


    Memories surfaced uninvited. Laughter in the kitchen that used to echo through these walls, footsteps chasing each other down the hallway, even the simple moments when we argued about who should wash the dishes. They came like small waves, soft but relentless. And I hated admitting it-but I missed some of it.


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    Yet longing didn’t mean going back. The scars he left were still there, real, unable to be erased by one breakfast and a few words of regret. I knew that. I reminded myself of it, again and again-that choosing distance was a way of loving myself.


    And yet, my body betrayed my mind. My fingers gripped the edge of the table too tightly, as if it were the only anchor keeping me from slipping. My breath came heavier, and every time I nced at his face, a faint tremor ran through me that I couldn’t suppress. He was still there, present, with a gaze too sincere for me to reject outright.


    Time moved slowly. Each second stretched long, trapping me in a silence that grew heavier by the moment. The ticking of the wall


    clock echoed sharply, mixing with the faint hum of the city beyond the window. And here, at this table, sat two hearts-both


    scarred, both searching for direction.


    I rubbed my temple, lowering my gaze, trying to contain the storm inside me. There were no words that could capture how


    agonizing it was to be caught in this moment-torn between mming the door shut forever, or leaving the smallest crack open


    for something I wasn’t even sure I could face again.


    In the midst of that confusion, I could only remain quiet. Letting time speak for me. Letting his presence rattle the silence I had


    worked so hard to build.


    I turned my face toward the window, letting my eyes rest on the city skyline, hazy beneath the morning light. I didn’t know what


    to say, didn’t know what to feel. I was no longer the same woman I once was. My wounds had shaped me into someone harder,


    more guarded, more afraid to give hope.


    “I’m not the same person anymore,” I finally said.


    “I know,” Liam replied quickly. “But I didn’te here to ask you to be who you were. I’m here… because I want to know you


    again. From the start. With the wounds we carry, with the reality we have now.”


    A bitterugh escaped me. “You think it’s that simple?”


    “No,” he said honestly. “That’s why I’lle again tomorrow.”


    I shot him a sharp look. “Liam…”


    But he rose, gathering the empty wrappers and tossing them into the trash. Then, from the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a folded sheet of paper-sky blue, decorated with balloons and smiling children.


    “This is for you,” he said, turning and handing it to me. “From Noah’s school.”


    I took it with a lifted brow. The moment I unfolded it, my eyes caught on the bold, cheerful letters: “Kindergarten Graduation Ceremony Invitation.” Beneath it were the date, time, and venue.


    “What is this?” I asked.


    “An invitation for parents. Noah wants you to be there,” he said simply. Calm, yet with a weight behind his words.


    I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening slightly around the paper. My heart seemed to stop for a beat.


    Lifting my gaze, I stared at him. “But isn’t Emily there? Isn’t she the one who’s his mother now?”


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    Liam went silent. His eyes dimmed, and a fragile stillness spread between us. Awkward. Unsettling.


    “She isn’t you,” he finally murmured. “For Noah, the name written down as his mother… is still you, Sienna.”


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    I froze. My breath caught. A sudden tightness filled my chest, and I turned my face away, trying to hide the storm rising within me.


    Old wounds hummed, awake again.


    “I know you’re not ready,” Liam continued softly. “But… will you at least consider it? Just for Noah’s sake.”


    I said nothing.


    Liam sat back down across from me, his gaze unwavering, cutting deep.


    “Come,” he whispered. “Noah’s waiting for you.”


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