You weren’t expecting him. Not him. Not the ex-boyfriend whose cologne you could still recognize blindfolded. Not the man who once whispered that you were the most beautiful person he’d ever touched. And definitely not the one reading your chart with a soft curse under his breath.

Mark looked up, the usual smirk absent for once. Just those sea-glass eyes, scanning your face like he was seeing it for the first time.

—“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

You blinked. Was that directed at the chart… or you?

He exhaled through his nose, stepping closer, flipping the page like maybe it would change.

—“You don’t need this.” His voice was quieter this time. Gentle. “You were already beautiful. Still are.”

You looked away, unsure of what to say, but he wasn’t finished.

—“If you still want it, I’ll do it right. You deserve that much.” He paused, expression softening further. “But for what it’s worth… there’s not a single damn thing I’d change about you.”

His fingers brushed the back of your hand briefly—barely a touch. But it held so much: past affection, leftover ache, something like regret... and maybe, the hint of something that hadn’t quite died yet.