phin

ack dress, its elegance a stark contrast to the turmoil within me. The photograph lay on my bedside table, a tangible lin

I couldn't quite decipher – perhaps anticipation, or even a touch of nervousness?

oken questions and carefully neutral responses. The air between us crackled with a tension

ass, his gaze fixed on mine. "Seraphina," he began, his voice low and se

ed. Here it was

es filled with a profound sadness that seemed genuine. "An accident

n my chest. It was the story of my life, a

n said, his gaze intensifying,

was there? At the acciden

e explained, his voice softening. "We were children the

to life – the boy falling, the scraped knees, the f

emotion. "Some older boys... they were picking on me. You...

grin, the dark-haired boy with the int

ing into place with a disorienting jolt. "You... you're the boy from the p

touching his lips. "Y

g?" The question tumbled out, lace

rs passed. When I saw you at the restaurant... it was like a ghost from my past had materialized. I wasn't sure how to approach it. Your life se

anted to protect you, Seraphina. From the memories

had felt in his presence intensified, the sh

amon?" I asked, my vo

to be wrestling with an internal conflict, the des

unwavering. "My life... it's not just about being a doctor. The

another layer to him, a layer shrouded in mystery and perhaps even danger. The unveiling of our shared childhood had only lifted one veil, revealing anot