I wasn’t sure who was more to blame: my sister for dragging me to this insufferable New Year’s Eve I wasn’t sure who was more to blame: my sister for dragging me to this insufferable New Year’s Eve party or me for letting her. The Novati sisters had always been the chaos twins, the yin to each other’s yang, and apparently, her idea of celebrating a fresh start was tossing me into a room of overly cheerful people I didn’t particularly like.

And, as luck would have it, one I despised.

Lucern “Luce” Tallett.

The golden boy of my past—the one I’d sworn to bury.

My fingers gripped a champagne flute, not because I was drinking but because holding onto something fragile made me feel like me. I glanced around the opulent living room, eyes scanning the sea of sequins and polished shoes. Luce was somewhere in this ridiculous mansion, and avoiding him was my sole mission tonight.

“Why do you look like someone just told you Santa isn’t real?” my sister Natalia teased as she popped up next to me, her own glass of bubbly in hand.

I groaned. “Why are we even here, Nat? This is Luce’s cousin’s house, for God’s sake.”

“Exactly.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Which means you’re due for some closure. Or maybe a little unresolved sexual tension—”

“Don’t.” I shot her a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“Oh, come on, Zara,” she said, looping her arm through mine. “You haven’t seen him in what? Six years? Maybe it’s time to grow up and have an adult conversation.”

Six years. Six years since the night that turned everything we were into something else. Something tangled and ugly and bitter. Six years after Luce kissed me like he needed me to breathe, he looked at me like I was nothing but the gum stuck to his designer sneakers.

No thanks.

It wasn’t like I could avoid him for long. Half an hour into the party, our paths crossed near the appetizers, his tall frame, and broad shoulders cutting through the crowd like he owned the place. Same tousled dark hair, same chiseled jawline that belonged on the cover of a men’s fashion magazine. His emerald-green eyes met mine for a second, just a second, before flickering away.

He looked good. Annoyingly good.

On the other hand, I was still wearing the Zara I’d always been: impulsive, middle-class, and wildly out of place in a room filled with people who probably used hundred-dollar bills as napkins.

“Zaharina,” he said, his voice smooth and deep, but there was no warmth to it—only formality.

“Lucern,” I replied, mirroring his stiff tone.

And that was that. Luce moved past me without another word, leaving behind the faintest trace of his cologne and the ache of something unresolved.

---

The night wore on, with Natalia commandeering me into awkward conversations and relentless games of charades until I finally slipped upstairs, desperate for a moment alone. The spare bedroom I ducked into was quiet, a small mercy in a house that seemed to thrive on noise.

I closed the door and leaned against it, my eyes closed, my thoughts jumbled. But when I opened them, there he was.

Luce.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, his head tilted up in surprise.

“Seriously?” he said, his voice tinged with exasperation. “Did my family set this up?”

“What the hell are you doing in here?” I snapped, my pulse skyrocketing.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

It was a standoff, the kind that felt like it could end in either a fistfight or something far messier.

And then the door handle rattled.

“Oops!” Natalia’s voice rang out, far too chipper. “Looks like it’s jammed. Guess you two will have to wait it out.”

“Natalia!” I shouted, pounding on the door. “This isn’t funny!”

Her only response was a giggle, followed by the muffled sound of her heels clicking down the hall.

I turned back to Luce, who was standing now. His six-foot frame was far too close for comfort in the small room.

“Don’t,” I warned, stepping back. “Don’t you dare try to talk to me.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he shot back. But then his eyes softened, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. “Unless you have something to say.”

And that’s when I snapped.

“What the hell happened that night, Luce?” I blurted, my voice shaking. “Why did you act like I didn’t exist the morning after? Like everything between us was some joke?”

He froze, his jaw tightening. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, and I almost laughed at the irony of it—how we’d spent six years pretending the other didn’t exist, only to end up here, locked in a room on New Year’s Eve.

Finally, he spoke. “You think I thought it was a joke? Zara, you left.”

“I left?” My voice rose. “You didn’t exactly stop me, Luce. You were too busy pretending I was beneath you.”

His eyes flashed green fire against the backdrop of old wounds. “I never—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair. “I never thought you were beneath me. But I sure as hell thought you thought I was too good for you.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “What are you even talking about?”

“You were the one who walked away,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “You didn’t even let me explain.”

“Explain what?” I shot back, drilling a hole in his muscular chest with my index finger. “That I wasn’t worth the risk of messing up your perfect life?”

I pulled back, giving him a sharp look. “Don’t act like you’re the victim here, Luce. You kissed me, then ghosted me like I was nothing. Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”

His expression turned serious, his green eyes searching mine. “You’re right. I owe you an explanation. I should have given it to you six years ago. But you walked out before I could say anything.”

“Maybe because you looked at me like I was trash,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “After everything we’d been through, you—”

“Zara.” His voice was calm, but his eyes burned with emotion. “I was an idiot. I panicked.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Panicked? About what?”

“You.” He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “That night, everything changed. You weren’t just my best friend anymore. You were… everything. And I didn’t know how to handle it. I thought if I acted normal and pretended nothing had happened, I could figure it out without losing you.”

“So, you ignored me? Made me feel like I didn’t matter?” My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. “That’s how you handled it?”

“I told you I was an idiot.” His tone softened, the vulnerability in his eyes cutting through my anger. “But Zara, you didn’t exactly fight for us either. You left.”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped. Luce wasn’t wrong. I’d run after waking up to find him distant and cold that night. I’d convinced myself it was better to leave before he could hurt me more. But looking back, I hadn’t given him the chance to explain.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” I admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I wasn’t good enough.”

Luce closed the distance between us in two strides, his hands cupping my face. “You were always good enough. More than good enough. I didn’t deserve you then, and honestly, I don’t deserve you now.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because,” he said, his voice steady, “I’m done pretending I don’t feel the way I feel about you. I’ve been pretending for six years, Zara, and it’s hell. You’ve haunted me. Every girl I’ve dated, every time I’ve tried to move on… it’s always been you.”

The weight of his words hit me like a tidal wave, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Could it really be this simple? Could six years of pain and anger be resolved with an apology and a confession?

“Do you mean it?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Or is this just some New Year’s resolution you’ll forget about by tomorrow?”

He smiled a small, sad smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

I searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt, but all I saw was sincerity. And love. The kind of love I’d been too afraid to hope for.

The room fell silent. Outside, the countdown had begun—people chanting from ten, laughter and joy spilling into the hallway. But inside, it was just us, the weight of six years pressing down on everything unsaid.

“Zara,” he said, stepping closer. “You won’t disappear this time?”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. And then, without thinking, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down until Luce’s face was inches from mine.

“Not for all the money in your grandma’s piggy bank,” I whispered.

His lips crushed against mine, and the years melted away, the anger and hurt replaced by something that felt like coming home. His hands tangled in my hair, mine gripping his shoulders as if letting go would mean losing him all over again.

The kiss deepened, full of the passion we’d buried for too long, and I felt the last remnants of the walls I’d built around my heart crumble. Luce kissed me with the intensity of someone trying to make up for lost time, his hands firm on my waist as if afraid I’d slip away again. And for a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the misunderstandings, not the years apart, not the fact that we were currently locked in a room while half the party celebrated below us.

I broke the kiss, gasping for air, my hands gripping his shirt. “You have a way of ruining me, you know that?”

Luce chuckled, his forehead resting against mine. “That’s rich coming from you, Zara Novati. You’ve been under my skin since my sophomore year of high school.”

This time, I kissed him, pouring everything I felt into that kiss. We didn’t notice the door unlock until it swung open, revealing Natalia standing there with a grin. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and rolled her eyes.

“Happy New Year, Zaharina,” she whispered, her tone smug.

Luce and I both turned, still tangled in each other’s arms. I opened my mouth to respond, but Natalia held up a hand. “Save it. Just promise me you won’t waste another six years being idiots.”

Luce chuckled, his arm tightening around my waist. “I think we can manage that.”

Natalia smirked and turned to leave, muttering something about “the perfect rom-com couple” under her breath.

When she was gone, Luce looked at me, his expression soft and full of wonder. “So, what now?”

I shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at my lips. “Now? You make it up to me for six years of being an idiot.”

He grinned, that boyish, cocky grin that had always driven me crazy. “That’s a tall order, Novati. But I’m up for the challenge.”

For the first time in six years, I didn’t care about anything except the boy I’d once loved—and the man he’d become.

---

The End