Lumi’s POV
I don’t realize I’ve stopped breathing until Clover touches my arm.
“Lumi…” Her voice feels far away. Muted even.
My eyes are still on my phone, on Caius’s profile picture of us that was now changed into a random plant photo. I lock the screen slowly, my chest pounding.
“Say something,” Clover says.
I exhale, but it doesn’t steady anything.
“I’m fine,” I say.
I’m not.
The car keeps moving. But everything inside me feels… stuck. A few seconds pass, heavy ones. Clover shifts beside me, restless now. Thinking.
“Okay… I wasn’t going to say this now but—”
I glance at her briefly. “What?”
She hesitates, which she never does. And that alone makes my grip tighten on the steering wheel.
“Lumi…”
“Clover.” My voice is sharper than I intended. “Just say it.”
She exhales, then:
“Remember Cameron?”
My heart stumbles. Of course I remember Cameron. Her ex, the one she swore she was over.
I frown slightly, pulling my attention away from everything else for the first time since that message.
“What about him?”
She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she leans closer, already unlocking her phone, her excitement practically vibrating off her.
“You need to see this,” she says.
That alone should’ve been my warning.
Before I can protest, she angles her phone toward me. A video is playing, dim lighting, loud music, a lounge setting. Then men, dancing, not just dancing, performing.
My brows pull together slightly as I try to focus without crashing the car.
“Clover—”
“Just look,” she insists, tapping the screen.
I sigh and glance again, slower this time.
Men in fitted black pants, open shirts, confident movements. Women seated, laughing, reaching, enjoying the attention.
I blink.
“…What am I looking for?”
She lets out a dramatic gasp. “Excuse me? Art. You’re looking at art.”
I huff a laugh despite myself.
“I don’t recognize anyone,” I say.
She rolls her eyes like I’ve personally offended her. Then she zooms in.
“There.”
I lean in slightly. My eyes scan the screen again… and then pause.
Wait.
“…Cameroon?”
She grins like she just won the lottery. “Bingo.”
I stare a little longer. He looks… different, more confident.
More—
I lean back in my seat, shaking my head slowly.
“Oh wow,” I mutter. “Seems like he actually got his dream job.”
Clover sits up straighter immediately, clearly pleased.
“Right?” she says. “Do you remember when he used to say he wanted to be a gigolo?”
I laugh, nodding. “Yes. I thought he was joking.”
“So did I,” she says. “Apparently, he was dead serious.”
We both watch the clip again.
He moves easily, like he belongs there. Like he’s not trying too hard. Like this is exactly where he’s supposed to be.
Clover lets out a low whistle.
“Okay… but can we talk about how he got hotter?”
I side-eye her. “Clover…”
“I’m serious,” she continues, completely ignoring me. “Like… in a dangerous way.”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling.
She’s not wrong, there’s something about him now, something confident, grown, intentional. Not the slightly unserious guy she used to date.
This version? Knows exactly what he’s doing.
Clover sighs dramatically, leaning back into her seat.
“I would love to experience this premium service.”
I nudged her with my elbow. “Clover.”
“What?” she says innocently. “I’m just appreciating growth.”
“Mm-hmm.”
She turns to me suddenly, eyes lighting up.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll book for two.”
I choke on a laugh. “Clover!”
“What?” she repeats. “It’s not like you have a boyfriend.”
That hits. She softens slightly, but not enough to stop.
“Come out of your shell,” she adds, nudging me this time. “It’s time to explore.”
I shake my head, agreeing quietly.
“Sure, sure,” I say. “But that’s not the reason you want to go.”
She narrows her eyes. “Oh?”
“You want to see Cameroon,” I say simply. “Don’t tell me you haven’t moved on after a year.”
She turns to me slowly. Dead serious.
“How do I move on from this?”
Before I can respond, she shoves the phone toward me again. Another clip, same setting and lighting. But this time, the energy is different, more intense. Cameroon performing a deep stroke dance on a lady.
I blink, then immediately look away.
“Clover!”
She bursts into laughter. “What? You didn’t even watch it properly!”
“I saw enough!”
I close my eyes briefly, laughing despite myself, then lightly hit her arm.
“You’re ridiculous.”
She’s still laughing.
“I’m just saying,” she says, wiping imaginary tears. “Some people glow up. He transformed.”
I shake my head, but I can’t help smiling.
“I get it now,” I admit. “You can book for two.”
Her head snaps toward me. “Wait—what?”
I keep my eyes on the road, pretending to be serious.
“I said you can book for two.”
She gasps.
“Who are you and what have you done with Lumi Carter?”
I laugh softly, but it fades quicker than I expected. Because for a second…I think about it, not the lounge. But the idea of…letting go.
Doing something I normally wouldn’t. Choosing something just because I want to, not because it makes sense. Just… because.
Clover watches me closely now.
“You’re serious,” she says quietly.
I shrug slightly. “Maybe.”
Her grin returns, slow and dangerous. “Oh, I’m definitely booking it now.”
I roll my eyes.
“Relax. I didn’t say when.”
“Tonight,” she says immediately.
I laugh. “Absolutely not.”
“Tomorrow.”
“No.”
“This weekend.”
“…Clover.”
She leans back, folding her arms. “You need this.”
I glance at her. “Need what?”
“To stop overthinking,” she says. “To stop blaming yourself. To stop acting like your life just ended.”
I didn't respond immediately. Because part of me…knows she’s right.
“You don’t have to become someone else,” she adds softly. “Just… don’t stay stuck as who you were.”
That sits with me, heavier than I expected.
Clover watches me for a moment, then her voice softens.
“Hey… look at me.”
I glance at her briefly.
“This isn’t your fault, Lumi,” she says firmly. “None of it is.”
I let out a quiet breath. “It feels like it is.”
“It’s not,” she insists. “You loved him. That’s not a crime. Him being an idiot? That’s on him.”
A small laugh slips out of me despite everything.
She nudges me lightly. “Seriously. Don’t start blaming yourself for his lack of sense.”
“I’m not,” I say… then pause. “I think.”
“You better not be,” she mutters.
We fall into a brief silence, the road stretching ahead.
Then suddenly—
“Wait.”
I glance at her. “What?”
She turns fully in her seat now, her expression shifting.
“When last did you run a pregnancy test?”
My hands tighten on the steering wheel.
“…What?”
“Lumi,” she says slowly, carefully. “You’ve been with him for six years.”
My heartbeat stutters.
“He better not have trapped you with a baby.”
