The voice behind her shattered the silence.
Lunara jerked around with a startled gasp. The gun slipped from her hand, struck the edge of the table, and landed with a dull thud.
Evan walked toward the table without rushing. He picked up the gun, looked at it for a long moment, then slowly lifted it and pressed the barrel against his own head. His face remained calm, as though he had already made up his mind.
"Please... don't." Her voice broke as she reached for him.
Evan didn't lower the gun.
His eyes were bloodshot, and fresh tears clung to his lashes. He had been crying for a long time. Lunara had always known how deeply he loved Emma. The painful part was that Emma had never loved him the same way.
"Evan, don't do this," she pleaded, shaking her head. "Please don't kill yourself."
Her gaze dropped to the gun. A chill ran through her when she remembered grabbing it a few moments ago. Her fingerprints were already on it.
