Page 99 of A Sinful Gravity

Luna watched me silently, those beautiful eyes swirling with complex emotions.

Just then, the windows suddenly lit up.

We turned—above the terrace, a firework exploded, golden light raining down, illuminating the entire terrace and her face.

Then another, and another.

Red, blue, purple, blooming across the night sky like someone had plucked stars and set them alight. Light and shadow flowed through the windows, across the table, flickering in her eyes.

She watched the fireworks, eyes sparkling.

I watched her eyes.

"This is..."

"Making up for it," I said. "Your birthday six years ago. I'd planned to do this for you."

She turned to me, tears finally falling.

"Cassian..."

I reached out and gently wiped the tears from her face.

"I'm sorry," I said. "For everything—for all the moments I didn't understand, for those disappointing days and all those awful things I said."

She didn't speak, just looked at me.

"I know apologies don't fix it." I continued. "The damage is done. But I want you to know, if I could go back, I'd make different choices. I'd trust you, stand by you, walk through those hard times with you—and I will in the future."

Fireworks kept blooming, one after another. Light and shadow played across our faces.

"Luna," I said her name softly. "I don't know if I can become perfect. But I know I want to become a better partner for you."

She looked at me, tears in her eyes, light too, but also something complex I couldn't read.

Then she reached out and took my hand.

Her hand was cool but gripped tight.

In that moment, no firework outside could match the warmth of her palm.

Chapter Twenty-One

Luna

The car crawled through the night.

I leaned back against the passenger seat. Outside, lights streaked across the glass—one after another, like colored rivers. Cassian's warmth still lingered in my palm. I closed my eyes. The fireworks flickered behind my lids.

Today felt unreal.

The square. The music. That little restaurant. The fireworks. Sonia's hug.

I turned to look at Cassian. He was focused on the road ahead, his profile cutting in and out of shadow under the streetlights. His hand rested on the wheel—long fingers, defined knuckles. The same hand that had held mine so gently.

Six years ago, I never would've believed he could become this version of himself—remembering what I liked to eat, taking me on a date, and making my biggest dream come true. And tonight, under those fireworks, when I looked into his eyes, I saw only my reflection. Just me.

Something inside me was shifting. It left me disoriented.