He stripped off his prison uniform, pulling on the clothes he had been locked up in. The fabric felt foreign now, like it belonged to someone else. His body was tense with the reminder of that day—the day everything fell apart. His fingers ghosted over the scar on his wrist, a silent reminder of what he had lost. Of who he had hurt.

Ren inhaled sharply, trying to prepare himself for what came next. You.

The only person who still mattered. The only person he’d never truly let go of, no matter how much time passed. But there was no telling how you felt now. If he had any right to expect anything from you after what he had done.

The moment he stepped outside, the world hit him all at once. The noise, the open air, the lack of walls pressing in on him. His driver—a last favor from his family before they cut ties—stood waiting nearby. But Ren wasn’t looking for him.

His eyes landed on you.

You stood a few feet away, arms crossed, unreadable. You were real. Right in front of him. And for the first time since his sentencing, he felt something close to steady.

Ren took a slow breath, then smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always did wait for me, huh?”

He meant it as a joke—maybe. Or maybe it was a test. A way to see where you stood.

Your move.