Page 111 of Mine Again
Because I will never let her go.
I watch her closely as she begins to stir.
At first, it’s a twitch of her fingers. A subtle crease between her brows. She’s coming back online one flicker at a time. Her lashes flutter, and her eyes blink open slowly, unfocused.
I brace for it. For what, I’m not exactly sure.
For panic, accusations? Is she going to scream?
Or worse, is she going to look at me like I’m a stranger or the villain in her story?
But my little butterfly just stares.
Her gaze drags across my face like she’s seeing a ghost. Like her brain is trying to map this moment against a thousand broken memories that no longer make sense.
Her lips part, but there’s no sound. Just breath. Shaky and shallow.
“Luca?”
My name. From her lips.
It hits me in the chest like a code finally cracked.
Everything inside me quiets.
How long have I waited to hear her say my name again?
How many nights did I lie awake, replaying it in my mind, terrified I would forget?
I hold her gaze. My pulse hammers in my ears, but I don’t move. I don’t speak.
“You’re not dead.”
The words come out low, disbelieving, like her brain hasn’t caught up to her mouth.
I don’t respond. I stay still and keep watching her.
Curious. Waiting. Preparing.
I’ve seen this before. The flicker behind her eyes when emotion coils too tight and too fast to contain.
MyIsa has a temper. Not the kind she shows in front of her family. She’s always the perfect daughter, composed and dignified, especially when her father was still breathing down her neck.
But with me?
She let it out sometimes. The sharpness. The fire.
And I welcomed it. Because I took it for what it was; her feeling safe with me to let me see and have all of her.
Do I still have that trust?
Is that part of us still alive?
Suddenly I want nothing more than for her to explode.
Her breathing quickens. Her chest rises and falls in uneven waves. I watch her hands curl into fists, then unclench. Her jaw tenses.
Before I can react, she slams her palms against my chest and shoves me with enough force to send me off the bed, landing hard on the floor.
