“Leah.”
Her name rolled out of my mouth before I even realized it.
She looked up. Those same soft brown eyes I used to trust—used to laugh with—locked onto mine. For a moment, the world around us stilled. No birds, no wind, not even Finn’s nervous shuffling could break the tension in the air.
It felt like standing on the edge of something fragile.
I didn’t move. Neither did she.
There were too many words between us, too many things I wanted to ask, too many things she needed to explain.
But none came out.
Leah’s face was pale, almost like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe I was one, in a way. A ghost of the girl who used to believe she’d never hurt me.
My throat tightened. Say something. Anything.
But she didn’t.
And I couldn’t.
It was all there in her eyes—regret, guilt, exhaustion—but
