Evelyn's POV
It was him. Nathan.
Standing right there in front of me.
I blinked, fighting the dizziness that tried to cloud my vision, but it wasn't the alcohol playing tricks on me.
It was him. My Nathan.
For seven years, I mourned him. I buried him in my heart, carrying the grief like a weight that never lifted.
But now, here he was — flesh, blood, and silence.
I wasn't thinking. I couldn't think.
The moment our eyes met, I grabbed his collar, yanked him down to me, and crushed my lips to his.
Oh God, his lips.
I hadn't forgotten a single detail. The softness. The way they used to move against mine each time he kissed me. Like we were always hungry for each other.
I kissed him like a woman drowning, desperate to hold on to something real.
But he didn't kiss me back.
His lips were still. Stiff.
I opened my eyes, pulling back just enough to search his face, hoping to look him in his eyes as I wondered why he didn't even kiss me back.