SERAPHINA’S POV
If I’d known Lucian would be here, I might’ve made an excuse to skip this trip entirely.
Not because I hated him—goddess, I wished it were that simple—but because I felt uncertain and exposed. After the Zara bomb, I was struggling to understand the new dynamic between us. I didn't know what I wanted from him or from myself.
It had barely been two days since I asked for space. I hadn't learned how to master the art of avoidance.
Now, I could only hope I'd figure out how to handle this as it unfolded.
For a moment, everything—the laughter, the sunlight, the smell of pine—blurred into background noise.
His gaze was steady but cautious, as if he wasn’t sure whether to smile or retreat. He looked older somehow, like our last conversation was twenty years ago, not just a couple of days.
His hair was out of its usual neat bun and brushed his shoulders, a little disheveled. His usual poise was replaced with quiet fatigue.
