Merlina hadn't meant to look.
But she did.
And now she couldn't stop. Couldn't blink. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't pretend that Craig Lesnar wasn't real and right there, standing a few feet away, looking like the last month hadn't wrecked them both from the inside out.
He didn't move. Not toward her, anyway.
He just stood there, tall and unfazed, with his fists curling inside the pockets of his dark blazer like they were the only thing keeping him from making the wrong moves.
The music played on. Someone laughed among them. Phoebe brushed past, perfume clinging to the air. A drink was pressed into her hand. Cold, sweet, and untouched.
But all Merlina could feel was him.
The gravity of him. The ache he left behind when he decided to ghost her. The way her whole body stilled like it remembered him better than her mind ever could.
He didn't even nod at her. Didn't flinch. Didn't try to say hello, not even a whisper.
