Antonio's POV
Watching her absorb what I just said stirred something deep inside me. I could see her lips part slightly, her lashes fluttering as if searching for the right emotion to land on. But before she could speak, my thoughts kept rushing forward—raw, relentless, like a dam had broken within me.
I never told anyone this, but my mother's words stuck with me ever since. "The girl with a storm in her chest and art in her hands." I didn't understand what she meant back then. But the moment I met Selene—now Atasha—I felt it. She wasn't just another face in a new city, she was the mystery I hadn't realized I'd been aching to solve.
Maybe that's why I planned the whole thing—why I staged the dog chase, why I made sure I transferred to her school, why I needed an excuse to be around her. It sounds crazy, I know. But when you feel a pull so strong toward someone, you don't sit back. You move. You run toward it, even if you don't know where it's going to take you.
And now, here she is. Sitting across from me, still a little cautious, still holding back pieces of herself… but she's here. That's more than I deserve.
I reached for my cup again, but it wasn't the warmth of coffee I wanted.
It was hers.
Atasha's POV
He looked nervous—something rare for someone like Antonio. His hand hovered near the coffee cup, his lips parting slightly as if he were about to say something… again. But I didn't let him.
Before he could speak, I leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn't planned. It wasn't perfect. But it was real.
A soft press of my lips on his, not because I had fully forgiven him yet, not because everything made sense—but because my heart ached too loudly to stay quiet. His breath hitched against mine, surprised. When I pulled back, I saw a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, like he thought he'd imagined it.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" I whispered, voice shaky, words pushing through the lump in my throat. "Why'd you hide it all? About your mom… about me, even before we met?"
He blinked, then looked down like he was holding a secret too fragile to say out loud. But I needed to know—because love, the kind that grows from pain and misunderstanding, deserves honesty if it's going to last.
The seconds felt like hours as Antonio stayed silent after my question. His gaze drifted, not meeting mine. It wasn't the usual confident Antonio I had come to know. This version of him was raw, unsure, vulnerable in a way that made my heart ache.
For a moment, I wished I could take back the kiss, rewind to the part where I didn't feel this pull between us. But then I remembered everything—the quiet moments we shared, his warmth, his vulnerability. He wasn't just a guy I had a complicated crush on anymore. He was a part of my world now, whether we liked it or not.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, his voice low, hesitant. "I should've told you. But I didn't know how… how to explain it all. It wasn't just my mom's words—it was everything. The way I kept thinking about you even when I shouldn't have. I never meant to hurt you, Atasha."
His eyes met mine then, and for the first time, I could see the storm behind them—guilt, regret, maybe even fear. Fear that I would walk away, that I would see him differently.
"Why didn't you tell me you knew me before we even met?" I pressed, needing to understand why he hid this from me. "Why did you play that game?"
Antonio's expression softened, but there was a sadness in his eyes that told me there was more to his story. "I didn't want you to think that I was just some guy who wanted to get close to you because of some strange connection. When I first heard about you, it felt... like fate. But then I started falling for you for who you are, not because of any old story. And the more I tried to keep my distance, the more I wanted to be near you."
His words hung in the air, mixing with the quiet tension between us. His hand reached across the table, and for a second, I almost pulled away. But then I didn't. I let him take my hand. I had no idea where we were headed, but for now, this moment felt real.
"I don't know where this is going," he said, squeezing my hand gently. "But I know one thing—I don't want to lose you, Atasha. Not again. Not before I've even gotten a real chance to prove that I can be better for you."
I didn't know how to respond. Everything inside me was conflicted, torn between the anger I still felt and the soft, undeniable pull toward him. But one thing was certain: he was here now, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I could trust him again.