Moved on?

The sleek glass doors of La Belle Époque swung shut behind Lucas and Bella, the upscale restaurant's ambient hum of clinking crystal and murmured conversations enveloping them like a velvet curtain. Bella's laughter still echoed from their lighthearted chat in the lobby, her arm brushing Lucas's as the maître d' led them toward the private dining suites. She was radiant—three years abroad had honed her confidence, her dark hair cascading in effortless waves, her eyes sparkling with stories of Parisian galleries and late-night lectures in Oxford. "You won't believe the chaos of my thesis defense," she was saying, her voice warm with nostalgia. "But it made me who I am now." Lucas managed a smile, though his mind lingered on Lia's absence, a hollow ache that no amount of work could fill. Bella had always been the one who got away—or rather, the one who stepped aside. She'd left for her studies knowing his heart belonged elsewhere, but now, back in the city, her presence stirred something