Elena's POV
He continued.
"And there's nothing going on with Sophia and me."
His voice was steady, but low—like he didn't trust it to hold if he spoke louder.
"Her building caught fire. She said she had nowhere else to go. So I helped."
He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flicking down before meeting mine again.
"Maybe she was doing something else. Maybe she used that. But I didn't feel anything for her. I haven't looked at her the way I look at you."
My breath caught—but I said nothing.
He leaned forward slightly.
"I said all those things before because I was pissed. Disappointed. Hurt. You said you wanted a break, Elena, and I—I didn't know what to do with that. I wanted you to come back."
My hands curled into fists under the table.
So that was it.
He wasn't lying now.
But he had lied before.
Not about the facts—maybe. But about the intention. The timing. The way it all looked.
I swallowed, the ache still tight in my chest.
Because part of me wanted to believe him.
