Saoirse’s POV

  Two months had passed since that night at the rooftop pub.

  Cian never talked about Aoife or what happened in that stairwell. He just moved on—or at least, that’s what he wanted everyone to believe.

  But I couldn’t let it slide.

  I told Mom about the whole incident.

  Her first reaction? Relief.

  “Finally, he’s out of that fake princess’s reach.” She exhaled, rolling her eyes.

  Then came the concern.

  “That girl bruised his ego, Saoirse. Even if he won’t admit it, this will bother him.”

  I assured her, “He’ll get over it. He’s Cian.”

  And I truly believed that.

  ─── ??☆?? ───

  School was over.

  The final grand event was upon us.

  Prom night.

  Cian hadn’t mentioned a date.

  So, I decred myself as his.

  “Don’t be sad, Cian. This fairy will be your date tonight.” I grinned, twirling in front of him.

  Mom burst into ughter. “Oh, I’m making this official.”

  And when Fiona Byrne decided something, she didn’t half-ass it.

  She called her best designer to create my dress, a vision of ethereal beauty. She hired a professional makeup artist, ensuring I looked like a literal fairy.

  Then came the photo session.

  Mom clicked endless pictures of me and Cian, while Dad watched in amusement.

  Cian?

  He was stone-faced the whole time.

  Which only made Mom ugh harder.

  “You look like a prince beside my fairy.” She cooed.

  Cian sighed. “I’m regretting this already.”

  ─── ??☆?? ───

  Before we left, Dad tossed Cian the keys to his test sports car.

  We both stared at them like he had just handed us the crown jewels.

  Then, Cian smirked.

  I snatched them before he could even react. “I’m driving.”

  He blinked. “Excuse me?”

  I grinned, dangling the keys in his face. “Do you think I’d let you touch these precious babies? Not happening.”

  He groaned. “Saoirse, it’s my car now.”

  “No, it’s Dad’s car. And I’m his favorite.”

  ─── ??☆?? ───

  That night was magical.

  We danced. We celebrated.

  We drove around the city in that sleek sports car, speeding down empty streets with the wind in our hair.

  Laughing.

  Letting go.

  This was it.

  The end of an era.

  School was officially over.

  And our next chapter?

  Was just beginning.