Melissa was shelving books at the library when she felt a presence behind her.
The air seemed to thicken, and her fingers froze mid-motion.
"Melissa," Alec's voice called her — low, cautious.
She turned slowly, hugging the book to her chest like a shield.
"What do you want, Alec?" Her voice was steady, but inside, a storm was raging.
Alec shoved his hands into his pockets.
He looked tired, shadows under his brown eyes.
"I just... I need to explain."
Melissa raised an eyebrow.
"Explain what? How you humiliated me? Lied to me? Used me to make your girlfriend jealous?"
The words spilled out, sharp like knives.
But it felt good — finally saying them.
Alec winced but didn't back away.
"I didn't plan it that way," he said quietly. "I was angry. Stupid. But I never hated you, Melissa."
Melissa laughed bitterly.
"You didn't have to hate me to hurt me."
Alec's jaw clenched.
"I know I don't deserve forgiveness," he said. "I just — I didn't think you'd end up meaning something to me."
Melissa stiffened.
"No," she said firmly. "You don't get to say that."
For a moment, neither spoke.
The distant hum of the library air conditioner filled the space between them.
"You broke something, Alec," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "Something I didn't even know was fragile."
Alec stepped closer, but Melissa immediately stepped back, holding her hand up like a stop sign.
"I don't trust you," she whispered. "I don't think I ever will."
His shoulders sagged.
"I'll wait," he said. "Even if you never do. I'll still wait."
Melissa felt a lump rise in her throat, but she forced herself to turn away.
She didn't owe him anything.
Not anymore.
As she exited the library, wiping her eyes quickly, she almost crashed into Dayne — who was waiting outside, leaning casually against a tree.
He didn't ask questions.
He just fell into step beside her, matching her pace.
"Want to grab ice cream?" he asked, smiling.
Melissa nodded.
Ice cream sounded like the perfect medicine right now.
As they walked away together, Melissa realized something.
Maybe healing didn't come from dramatic apologies or grand gestures.
Maybe it came from small, quiet kindnesses — repeated over time.
Maybe, just maybe, she could still believe in love.
Not the kind that hurt you.
But the kind that stayed.