“What are you doing here?” I asked him, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“I came to check on you,” he said simply. “I wanted to see how you're doing.”
He started walking toward me. And instead of stepping back or telling him to stop, I let him come closer. I don’t know why—I should’ve stopped him. But I didn’t.
When our bodies finally touched, I swallowed hard. There was a warmth in the air between us, something familiar but confusing. Still, I forced myself to hold my head up high. I didn’t want him to see what I was really feeling. I didn’t want to show him that I was anxious... or worse, that I was still affected by him.
But then I noticed his eyes drift downward, slowly. His gaze landed on the mark on my collarbone.
“You know what this means?” he asked, his voice low but serious.
