"What truth?" I asked, heart pounding.

The words had barely left my mouth before my mind began racing. The way Xander had looked at me—like his soul was fraying at the edges—wasn’t something I could ignore. This wasn’t just another one of his brooding moments. No. This was something deeper. Something real. And it terrified me.

He turned away from me again, dragging a hand over his face like the confession clawed at his skin. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. The wind had stilled, the forest frozen in anticipation.

"I spent years," he started, his voice low, gravel-rough with restraint, "hating the wrong person."

I blinked.

He turned slowly...