Dominique stood in the corner of the room, his arms crossed, his heart pounding. He watched as his mother carefully peeled back the gauze.

The skin underneath was red, angry, raw, and healing. But it was smoother and much flatter than before. The deep ridges that had once defined the scar were gone. The twisted tissue had been replaced by something new. Something that, in time, would fade.

Dominique’s eyes widened. His breath caught in his throat.

Hazel looked at her reflection in the small mirror Kaelani held up. Her breath caught.

It wasn’t perfect. The redness would take months to fade. The skin was still tender and still healing. But for the first time in years, she could see a future where her face wasn’t defined by the scar.

Tears slipped from her eyes.

Kaelani gently wiped them away. "No crying," she said softly. "It’ll sting."

Hazel nodded, swallowing hard. She blinked rapidly to hold back more tears.

Kaelani looked at Dominique. He was standing frozen, his hands in his pockets, his face unreadable. But his eyes were bright, almost wet.

Kaelani smiled. "She’s going to be fine."

Dominique nodded. He swallowed hard. "Thank you, Mother," he said, his voice rough. He couldn’t say more.

Hazel looked at him through the mirror. Their eyes met, and she blinked once. Slowly. Softly.

Dominique’s heart skipped a beat.

After Kaelani finished reapplying fresh bandages, she stepped back. "You’ll need to keep the area clean and moisturized," she instructed. "Sunscreen every day. No harsh products."

Hazel blinked once. Understood.

Kaelani nodded, satisfied, and left to talk with other doctors regarding something.

Hazel’s parents arrived shortly after. Jenna rushed to Hazel’s bedside, her eyes already wet. Kevin followed closely behind.

Jenna squeezed Hazel’s hand, tears streaming down her face. "We’re taking you home," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Our house. You can recover there. We’ll take care of you."

Kevin placed a large hand on Hazel’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. His jaw was tight, but his eyes were soft.

Hazel blinked once in agreement.

Dominique’s heart sank.

He stood by the window, watching the family gather around Hazel. He had been hoping, maybe possibly, that Hazel would stay with him. Or that he could stay with her. But her parents were here, and they were family, and he had no claim. No right.

Bella stepped forward and hugged Hazel gently, careful of her bandages. "I have to go back to college," she said softly. "My classes can’t wait any longer. But I’ll visit as soon as I can, I promise."

Hazel’s eyes followed Bella as she pulled away and walked toward the door.

Then Hazel’s eyes found Dominique.

He was standing by the window, his hands in his pockets, his expression carefully neutral. But his shoulders were slumped.

Jenna turned to Dominique and touched his arm. "Thank you," she said, her voice warm. "For everything. For your mother. For being here."

Dominique nodded, forcing a small smile. "Of course. Hazel is my best friend."

He looked at Hazel one more time. She looked back.

He wanted to say something, something meaningful, something that would make her remember him while she recovered in her parents’ house. But the words wouldn’t come.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Finally, he just nodded once. "Get better soon, Hazel."

Then he turned and walked out.

The hallway was quiet. His footsteps echoed.

He had missed his chance again, but Hazel was healing. That was what mattered.

He told himself that as he walked to his car. He kept telling himself that all the way home.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

"She got surgery?" Vanessa’s voice was sharp, disbelief dripping from every syllable. She sat across from Nicolas in the dimly lit private booth of an upscale lounge, her painted nails tapping an impatient rhythm against her wine glass. The low amber light caught the curve of her bare shoulders, the slit of her dress revealing a long stretch of her thigh.

Nicolas leaned back, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, exposing the tan skin of his chest. His expression was dark, shadowed by something bitter. "Yeah," he said, his voice flat and cold.

His mind wandered. He remembered Hazel before the scar. The way she had walked into rooms and commanded attention without trying. Her striking blue eyes. Her confident smile. The way men had lined up just for a moment of her time.

He had worked hard to get her. Flattery. Gifts. Promises whispered in the dark. He had pursued her when she was vulnerable, after the accident, when her confidence had shattered into a thousand pieces. He had made her believe he was the only one who could love her despite the scar, despite the way her face had changed.

And now, surgery.

If she became beautiful again, she would forget him. She would have options. Better options. Richer options.

His jaw tightened. His fingers curled into a fist beneath the table.

Vanessa watched him, her thoughts racing. Her fingers stopped tapping. Her eyes narrowed to slits. A slow burn of jealousy coiled in her stomach.

It wasn’t fair.

Hazel was rich. She came from a powerful family. She had everything money could buy. And now she wanted beauty too? The one thing Vanessa had worked her entire life to perfect?

Vanessa’s lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. She took a slow sip of her wine, her throat working as she swallowed down her resentment.

Nicolas set down his glass with a quiet clink. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his dark eyes locking onto Vanessa’s. "I don’t want Hazel and Dominique to end up together," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Do you have any ideas?"

Vanessa leaned forward as well, closing the distance between them. Her eyes gleamed in the low light. A slow, secretive smile spread across her painted lips. "Tell me everything about them," she purred. "Their friends. Their routines. And their weaknesses."

Nicolas paused, studying her face. Then he nodded. He told her about Dominique and Hazel’s inner circle: Bella, Jason, Jay, and Jace.

Vanessa listened, her mind working like a predator calculating a hunt. She tilted her head, tapped a finger against her chin, and let out a soft, thoughtful hum.

Then she smiled, wide and sharp, like a blade. "I have an idea," she said.

Nicolas straightened in his seat. His body went rigid with anticipation. "Tell me."