And by then, I’d already ruined everything.
I scrub a hand down my face, dragging myself out of the memory, but it lingers—like smoke, like something burned deep into my brain that I’ll never fully scrub out.
Because I know this is where I messed up.
I just don’t knowwhyI still can’t let it go.
I tell myself it’s guilt.That’s the easy answer.That’s the one I can live with.
I stole her song.
That beautiful song full of longing and embedded with a part of her soul.
That’s why she hates me.
That’s why she stormed out of Nocté like she couldn’t escape fast enough.Why, when I found her waiting for me at her place, she had that look in her eyes—braced, like she knew exactly how much this would hurt.And maybe that should have been enough.
Maybe I should have just left things well enough alone.
But I can’t.Around Anna, it seems like I never could.
Because back then?That’s exactly what I was trying to do.
I was trying to get her to hate me.
I just never expected to hate myself for it.
I don’t know what made her change her mind that day—why she finally let me see the song she’d been working on.
Maybe she got tired of me pushing.Maybe she figured I’d just keep annoying her until she caved.
Or maybe—maybe she finally trusted me.
That thought twists something in my chest, even now.
Because I didn’t deserve it.
Not then.Definitely not now.
But she gave it to me anyway.
She sat cross-legged on the floor of her room, her back against the bedframe, fingers twitching against her notebook like she was still second-guessing whether this was a mistake.Her face was unreadable—her tell, I knew that much.
Anna wore her emotions like armor, but not this time.
This time, she was handing me something fragile.
So when she slid the notebook toward me, my stomach clenched.
I took it carefully, flipping to the page she had marked, letting my eyes move over the lyrics.
And shit.
I was right.
Itwasn’tjust another song.
It was her.