LONDON'S POV
As I left Elena’s room, I closed the door with deliberate softness, the faint click of the latch sounding louder than it actually was. I leaned against the wall, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
My chest tightened as I replayed the moment—the way her arms had clung to me as though I were her anchor. And then, that accidental kiss. God, that kiss.
It had been so brief, but the warmth of her lips lingered, searing into my memory like fire on snow. She’d pulled back quickly, her face flushed, her words tumbling over each other in a flustered apology. But she had no idea what that single moment had done to me.
Elena. Always Elena.
For years, I had been her silent shadow, her constant, dependable friend. I had watched as she smiled at another man, her eyes
