Saoirse’s POV

  The next day, Liam tried to talk to me.

  Tried to say sorry.

  His voice was soft, pleading, but I stood my ground, my face completely emotionless.

  He waited. Hoped for a reaction.

  But I gave him nothing.

  After a long moment, he sighed, defeated, and walked away.

  A week ter, he tried again.

  This time, I didn’t even let him speak.

  Instead, I gnced at Cian, who was standing nearby.

  That was all it took.

  Cian immediately stepped forward, his broad frame blocking Liam from getting any closer. A human wall.

  Liam stiffened, jaw tightening, but he said nothing and left.

  That was the st time he tried.

  Months passed.

  Cian was completely absorbed in his soccer training, preparing for the final match against our school’s biggest rival.

  I watched him push himself to his limits, practicing every free moment he had. His dedication was unshakable.

  And when the match finally came?

  He won.

  Of course he did.

  Our whole family was there, cheering him on as he scored the winning goal.

  Fiona was beaming with pride.

  Grandma was cpping excitedly, already pnning how to brag about him at her next charity meeting.

  Even Grandpa, who had come straight from his busy schedule, had a rare smile on his face.

  That night, we celebrated.

  We all went to one of GaelCorp’s fanciest restaurants, enjoying the best food, the best wine, and the best company.

  It was a night of ughter, joy, and family.

  And for the first time in a long while, I felt completely at peace.