The night air clung to his skin, thick with the scent of roses and damp earth. The maze garden loomed ahead, its winding paths a reflection of the chaos in his mind. Viro’s pulse drummed in his ears as he leaned against the cold stone bench, waiting. Hoping. Dreading.

Footsteps. Soft, hesitant.

He turned, breath hitching as you emerged from the shadows. Moonlight traced your face—exhausted, conflicted, devastatingly beautiful. He hated the ring on your finger. Hated that you still wore it.

You exhaled sharply. “You shouldn’t have called me.”

Viro let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have done a lot of things. But here we are.”

Silence. Heavy, suffocating. His fingers twitched, aching to reach for you, to pull you close like that night—

“Say it,” you murmured. “Say whatever you need to say, Viro.”

He clenched his jaw. “Don’t marry him.”

Your breath caught. His eyes were wild, desperate, brimming with everything he had swallowed down for years.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whispered.

"Then stop pretending you don't feel this too," he shot back. “You think I can watch you stand beside him, knowing what he’s done to you? Knowing what we—” His voice broke. "I can't."

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t move. Didn’t turn away.

Seconds stretched between you, each one heavier than the last. And then—just barely, almost imperceptibly—you stepped closer.

Viro sucked in a sharp breath. His hands clenched at his sides, fighting the urge to grab you, to take what he wanted, to be the selfish bastard he swore he'd never be.

But you were still here.

He let out a shaky breath, looking at you like a man on the edge of ruin, then whispered—

“I would've wrecked the whole world for you.”