Page 67 of Spotlight Hearts

Luca sits up fully. The sheet pools around his waist. His expression shifts from sleepy confusion to something else that makes my heart clench—hurt, disbelief.

“Kai… we agreed. No more pretending. No more professional. You said you wanted this, too.”

“I know what I said.” My voice cracks. I hate how weak it sounds. “But I was wrong. This is too much. Too fast. If we keep going like this, one of us is going to break the other. And I won’t let that happen to us. To the band.”

He stares at me. The hurt in his eyes is raw and unguarded.

“So you’re running again,” he says quietly. “After everything we did last night. After you took me apart and held me like that…you’re pulling away.”

I flinch. The words sting because they’re true.

“I’m trying to protect us,” I whisper.

Luca’s jaw tightens. He looks away for a second, then back at me. His voice is low and full of pain. “You’re protecting yourself. Not us.”

The silence that follows is heavy.

I want to take it back. I want to crawl back into bed and let him hold me. I want to tell him I’m terrified because I’ve never felt this much for anyone, and I don’t know how to survive losing it.

But I don’t.

I just stand there, chest aching, watching the warmth in his eyes slowly dim. Luca exhales shakily and looks down at the sheet.

“Fine,” he says, voice flat. “If that’s what you want.”

I turn away before he can see the regret already flooding my eyes.

The memory slams into me so hard it feels like I’m living it again.

I’m twelve.

Elena is sitting across from me at the small kitchen table. Her eyes are red and puffy, like she’s been crying for hours. The smell of her chicken soup is still in the air from dinner, but it suddenly turns my stomach.

She reaches across the table and takes my hands. Hers are shaking.

“Kai, honey… the agency called today.”

My stomach drops. I already know what she’s going to say, but I still hope I’m wrong.

“They found a family for you. A married couple. They think it’s a better fit. They have a bigger house, more resources… they can give you the kind of home I can’t right now.”

I stare at her. My mouth is dry. My chest feels like someone is squeezing it.

“But… you said you were going to adopt me.”

She flinches. Tears spill down her cheeks.

“I tried, sweetheart. I really did. But the agency said no. They think you need a mother and a father. A more stable environment. I’m so sorry.”

I nod. I don’t cry or yell, neither one would change anything. I just nod, because that’s what you do when adults decide your life for you.

She keeps talking—about how much she loves me, how this is for the best, how she’ll visit every weekend.

I stop listening after the first lie.

Later, I pack my bag in silence while she cries in the living room. My hands are steady. My face is blank. I’ve done this before.

She hugs me at the door when the social worker arrives. She promises she’ll call. She promises she’ll visit.