Ava had spent weeks trying to forget about you. She buried herself in work, avoided the places you frequented, ignored you as best as possible, and reminded herself over and over again—It didn’t mean anything. That’s what you had said after their kiss. Cold. Dismissive. As if it hadn’t shaken her to her core.

And yet, here you were.

Standing in front of her art gallery, dressed in your usual black, looking every bit as unreadable as the day you shattered her resolve.

Her heart betrayed her first, thudding against her ribs.

Then her feet followed.

She had intended to walk past you, pretend you weren’t there, but her eyes landed on the sleek, unopened box sitting on her desk inside. A brand-new phone.

Her brows furrowed as she turned back to you. No. It couldn’t be…

"What’s this for?" Her voice came out sharper than she intended.