His eyes softened, concern immediately flickering through them. He leaned slightly toward her. “You shouldn’t have come. I told you I’m fine,” he said. “It’s so late at night… why did you come by cab?”
She didn’t answer.
But her fingers tightened around his hand, instinctively curling into his palm. The moment Magnus had called, her body had already decided to move before her mind could catch up. She could still feel it clearly: how she’d barely reached home after leaving James when the phone rang, how her heart had dropped so violently it felt like it had slammed into her stomach.
She hadn’t even stopped to think.
She’d turned around, grabbed her bag, and rushed out the door, her feet moving so fast she hadn’t been aware of the groundbeneath them—only the sharp pounding in her chest, only the fear clawing its way up her throat.
Alexander felt the tension in her grip.
Carefully, he lifted their joined hands. His fingers loosened just enough for him to slide his palm up, cupping her face. His hand was warm against her cheek. He tilted her face gently upward, guiding her until she had no choice but to look at him.
“Were you worried about me?” he asked softly.
Mia didn’t answer.
Her eyes stayed locked on his for a moment, something turbulent flickering deep inside them—fear, conflict, restraint—before she turned her face away, breaking the connection.
Alexander didn’t stop looking at her.
His thumb rested lightly along her cheekbone, unmoving, as if afraid that even the smallest motion might push her further away. When he spoke again, his voice softened even more, low and raw with vulnerability.
“Mia…” he murmured. “I love you. Will you please come back home?”
Mia froze.
Her body went still, shoulders stiffening. For a moment, it looked as though she didn’t want to speak at all—like the effort to hold herself together was taking everything she had.
Then she finally did.
Quietly.
“Mr. Graves…” she said, her voice controlled but strained. “If you are not ready to let go of me yet, I will stay with you until you are.”
Alexander’s brows drew together sharply.
His expression darkened, a deep frown carving itself across his face as confusion and alarm flared in his eyes.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
Mia inhaled slowly, steadying herself.
“If you think you’re not ready to separate from me,” she continued, her tone calm, “and you still need time to get over… whatever feelings you have for me, then I will live with you until you get over them.”
She met his gaze briefly.
“And then we can separate.”
“Mia.” His voice sharpened instantly, disbelief breaking through. “I’m in love with you. What do you mean—get over my feelings?”
“You are not in love with me, Mr. Graves,” Mia said immediately.
Her eyes flicked back to his face, disappointment and buried anger flashing through them as she continued, “You are in love with a memory.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened.
“You liked me when you were younger,” she went on, her voice steady. “It was infatuation. Not love. You just need time to get over those feelings before you actually fall in love with someone you truly love.”
