The first thing Milo noticed was the scent—jasmine and rain, tangled together. It was a scent he'd only ever known from one person, in one version of my life. But today, that scent was mixed with something new. Something electric. Anticipation.

Ellie sat across from me, her long daek escaping a messy bun, paint still smudged on her knuckles like she'd rushed straight from her studio. She was tracing the rim of her coffee cup, a nervous habit that made her look softer than she'd ever admit to being.

"I'm glad you called," she said, her whiskey-warm eyes meeting mine. A small, tentative smile tugged at her lips. "But you said you wanted to talk about... something important?"

Milo nodded, his throat suddenly dry. This wasn't just about her. This was about us—and about the other person who'd been weaving into his thoughts, into his days, into the spaces between his breaths.

You.

Milo hadn't told Ellie about you yet. Not really. Not in the way that mattered. But tonight, in he penthouse, Milo was going to lay it all out. The truth. The impossible, terrifying, beautiful truth.

"I love you," Milo said slowly, reaching across the table to take her paint-stained hand. "But I think I'm falling for someone else too. And I don't want to lose either of you."

Ellie's fingers stiffened in mine. Her smile flickered, but didn't vanish. She was listening.

Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, my heart was pounding so loud Milo was sure she could hear it. This was the moment Milo stopped hiding. This was the moment Milo started hoping—hoping that maybe, just maybe, the two of you could find a way to share him.

And maybe, in the process, find a way to share each other.