Page 364 of Bad Prince
But intentional.
A step forward.
Into his path. Her hand lifts slightly, like she’s about to reach for him—I hold my breath. Because this is it, right? This is the part where he goes to her. Where it all makes sense. Where I’m too late. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. Won’t even look at her.
He walks right past, like she’s not even there.
My heart stutters.
Isa freezes.
It’s small.
Barely noticeable.
But I see it.
The flicker.
The confusion.
The hurt.
Her hand drops. And Tristan?
He keeps walking toward the tunnel away from both of us.
I exhale shakily, dragging a hand through my hair, loosening the tension at the base of my skull. I glance toward Isa again.
She’s composed already. Chin high. Back straight. Mask back in place. We share a brief glance before I turn walking away. This thing with the three of us—it’s bad. Three hearts stuck on instant replay.
