Zoe POV

The café is empty, every table vacant except one where Noah sits by the window, waiting with the nervous energy of someone who knows they're about to face judgment.

When he sees me, he stands immediately, wearing a navy suit with a pressed shirt and tie perfectly straight.

He looks... nervous.

"Zoe."

My name on his lips comes out soft, almost reverent, and the mate bond flares in my chest—sharp and undeniable, a reminder that even damaged, even ...