Chapter 12 – Garden of Ghosts

The air in the garden was cooler than inside the gala, the silence a balm to Mia's overwhelmed senses. White roses climbed the trellises, their petals glowing under the moonlight, and a soft breeze tugged at the hem of her dress. She walked slowly toward the fountain at the center, heels clicking lightly against the stone path, trying to steady her thoughts.

Liam's words from the balcony still echoed in her mind.

How could someone she had just met get under her skin so easily?

She paused at the fountain and stared at the rippling water. Her reflection stared back—poised, polished, unreadable. Just the way she liked it. But underneath, her heart thudded with a storm she wasn't ready to name.

Footsteps approached behind her. Familiar. Calm.

She didn't turn around. "You're following me now?"

Liam chuckled softly. "I figured the garden might be safer than the battlefield inside."

Mia allowed herself a small smile, still facing the water. "I didn't know galas had battlefields."

"They do when Ethan Hart shows up."

She let out a breath, not quite a laugh. "He's not worth your attention, Liam."

"I know. But he was getting yours."

That made her turn. Liam stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, eyes sincere under the soft glow of lanterns strung overhead. There was no jealousy in his voice. Just honesty. Just… vulnerability.

"I wasn't entertaining him," Mia said. "I was surviving the conversation."

Liam nodded. "I didn't mean to assume otherwise."

Mia studied him for a moment, her guard softening. "I guess we're both a little jumpy tonight."

He stepped closer, slowly, as if giving her room to step away if she wanted. She didn't.

"You looked… upset," he said. "After you walked off."

She hesitated, then gave a small shrug. "Old ghosts. Ethan and I have history. Bad history."

"You don't have to explain."

"I know," she replied. "But I want to."

Liam said nothing, letting her take her time.

"I thought I loved him once," she admitted. "But he only loved control. I let him make me feel small."

"You're not small, Mia. You never were."

That earned him a real smile.

"Thanks," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Coming from you, that means something."

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, the wind rustling the leaves and the fountain humming quietly nearby.

"Liam," she said softly, "I know we didn't end things in the best way. And maybe you had your reasons. I had mine too. But I don't want to keep dragging that around forever."

He looked at her then, really looked. "Neither do I."

A pause. Then:

"Do you think," he began, "maybe we could… start over? Not pretend nothing happened, but just… find some kind of peace?"

Mia tilted her head. "You mean… be friends?"

"Friends," he confirmed. "The kind that can talk without everything turning into a landmine."

She laughed lightly. "That might be ambitious for us."

"But worth trying?"

She extended her hand. "Okay. Friends."

He took it, his grip warm and steady. "Friends."

And for the first time that night, Mia's chest loosened. She didn't know what the future held—not with Liam, not with the ghosts of their past—but at least, for now, they could stand beside each other without the weight of blame.

Maybe this was the beginning of something new.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something old… rewritten.