But now, that same heart gave me no warmth at all.
“Me?”
Nova’s voice pulled me back from the memory.
She tilted her head, lips curling in that sugar-sweet, taunting smile.
“Do you think this dress is pretty? Lucas said this color reminds him of
spring—fresh, young, alive.”
Alive.
I almost laughed again.
So that’s what I was now—
an empty shell of the woman who once saved him.
“It’s pretty,” I said at last.
Then I lifted my head, meeting her gaze, my tone calm—almost gentle.
“But that color’s too bright. It’s not really suitable for being around
a heart patient. It might... excite his heartbeat.”
The air went still.
Nova’s smile froze on her lips.
Lucas’s brows drew together, a faint twitch betraying the discomfort he
didn’t want to show.
I looked at him and added, almost casually,
“Didn’t the doctor say your heart still can’t handle too much
stimulation?”
His expression shifted—subtle, but unmistakable.
That was the past he never wanted mentioned again—
the night of the failed heartbeat, the surgery that nearly ended him,
the same fear I had lived with for five long years.
He never thought I’d bring it up.
Not in front of her.
I stepped forward and gently picked up the coffee cup on the table.