The gala was a blur of champagne and silk gowns, but all Ava could focus on was you.

You, across the room in a dark burgundy dress, laughing easily with April. You, who everyone at Med knew was out and proud, comfortable in your skin in a way Ava had never quite managed. You were magnetic, and it was infuriating—because Ava was supposed to be focused on Connor.

He was at her side, charming and sharp in his tux, but his words felt distant. Meaningless. Especially when you finally looked her way and offered that soft, knowing smile.

Ava’s chest tightened.

You weren’t trying to flirt. You didn’t have to. You just were. And she hated how much she noticed.