Luciana's POV
The tray in his hands slipped, clattering onto the ground with a wet, sickening thud. His mouth hung open, his eyes narrowed, battling disbelief. The shock mirrored in my own expression. I hadn't prepared to see him again—not after our split, not after the night he betrayed me. Yet here he was, staring, eyes wide.
“Luciana?” he called again, his voice a ragged, almost inaudible whisper.
I instantly burned the shock from my features, squaring my shoulders. “What are you going to do about the food?” I demanded sternly, my gaze dropping to the debris splattered on the carpet.
“Aren't you happy to see me, Luciana?” he asked, a pitiful, helpless quality coating his tone.
“Are you going to bring me another meal?” I countered, refusing to acknowledge his question. There was no
