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Dion chuckles, his shoulders relaxing. “When we finally arrived, I think my eyes almost popped out of my sockets. It was the happiest moment of my life. We did all the rides, played all the games, and ate so much carnival food, I almost got sick. But I didn’t care. I was just so happy.”
He gently traces the edge of the frame with his finger, his brow furrowing. “This picture was taken at a photo booth. I remember squishing into the tiny space, my parents on either side of me, all of us laughing so hard.”
Dion’s voice falters, and he clears his throat, smoothing out his expression. I reach over and squeeze his hand.
“I wish I had thanked them more,” he continues. “I wish I had told them how much I loved them. Because that night was the last time we were all together.”
He looks at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and gratitude, his hand trembling slightly. “I just hope they knew how much they meant to me.”
I nod, feeling a lump in my throat. “I’m sure they did.”
For a moment, Dion remains lost in the memory. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, he inhales sharply and stands up straighter. His expression hardens, all traces of emotion washed away. He carefully plucks the frame from my hands and puts it back on the mantle. “Anyway,” he says, his voice firmer. “That’s all in the past. No use dwelling on it, right?”
I watch as he composes himself, the vulnerable boy from his story replaced by the strong, guarded man I’ve just met. “Right. Well, you’re so strong for going through that, Dion. Look at how far you’ve come. I’m sure they would be proud,” I assure him.
“Actually, I think my father is rolling in his grave. He always said he wanted me to do better than him and not end up following his path. He worked for one of the families here in Cebrene. Ironically, his death pushed me even deeper into this world. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” he murmurs.
Dion turns to look at me and smiles. “But perhaps they’re still watching over me.” A pause. “I think they might have sent you as my shining star.”
My cheeks warm as his words catch me off guard, at the intensity in his eyes. My gaze flickers away, and I fumble for a response that doesn’t come.
Dion pinches my chin between his fingers to bring my face back to him. “Hey. You don’t have to say anything, astéri mou. Let’s keep touring.”
I nod, relieved, and smile softly.
We continue moving through the house, our hands joined. We step into the kitchen—a cheerful room with vintage decor. The cabinets are the most beautiful shade of blue; the countertops adorned with jars of spices and fruits. A small dining table in a nook overlooks the backyard.
This is not what I expected from Dion.
I halt my steps and his body presses against mine, my frame molding effortlessly into his. I take in a sharp breath when he buries his face in my neck, goosebumps erupting over my skin.
“Not what you thought, huh?” he asks.
There’s anticipation in the air, drawing me in, making me hyper-aware of every breath, every heartbeat as if we’re connected by an invisible thread.
“Not at all,” I breathe out.
He chuckles softly and slips my purse off my shoulder.
Suddenly, the tension between us becomes suffocating, wrapping around me like a tight coil. The pull he has on me is too much, and I need some space.
Without excusing myself, I run out of the kitchen, looking for an exit.
My chest constricts, as if I’m drowning in feelings I can’t quite understand.
Stepping outside, I inhale the cool air, but it does little to calm the storm raging inside me.
What the hell am I doing?
Was I too impulsive? Did I even think this through? A rush of emotions floods over me. Confusion, disbelief—maybe regret.
My night took a turn I hadn’t expected and the weight of what’s happened is suddenly too heavy.
Closing my eyes, I try to slow my racing heart. I feel like I’m losing control.
Dion steps outside moments later. “Aria, are you okay?”
I look at him—his intense eyes, his disarming smile.
