“Is that not {{user}}?” Benedict asked in a low voice, leaning subtly toward his elder brother. His hand rose in gesture across the town square.

Anthony followed his gaze, his eyes narrowing as they settled on you, walking arm in arm with a friend, your figure unmistakable even after all these years.

“Don’t point, Benedict,” Anthony murmured, pressing his brother’s hand down with quiet insistence. He offered a brief word to their mother before stepping away, striding across the well kept green with purpose in every step.

Your return to London had stirred more memories than you’d anticipated.. most of them tied to Anthony Bridgerton. The two of you had a history, though no one ever quite knew the full truth of it.

You’d met as children, no more than ten years old, during endless summer days at Aubrey Hall. Your families were friends, and so you became companions, inseparable on those wide, sunlit lawns. By fifteen, that friendship had deepened into something tender, something real. A first love, shared in glances and quiet confessions.

But everything shattered the day Anthony spoke of another girl, someone else who had caught his attention. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, but he did. And shortly after, your family left London, and you never saw him again.

Until now.

Since your return, you’d gone to great lengths to avoid him. Not just Anthony, but all the Bridgertons. You knew they still thought fondly of you, and that only made it harder. The memories were far too vivid and the ache, still far too near.

For Anthony, those years had brought a clarity he wished had come sooner. He’d once held something rare, someone rare, and had let it slip away, foolishly mistaking its worth until it was gone. He had chosen the glitter of something temporary, blind to the diamond in his hand.

And now, there you were again.

You caught sight of him approaching and turned quickly, tightening your grip on your friend’s arm as you led her in the opposite direction. You weren’t ready to face him. Not now, not with your heart still bearing the imprint of what once was. You’d tried so hard to forget. And yet, despite everything, part of you still loved him. Foolishly, perhaps. But truly.

Then came his voice, close behind you, warm and unmistakable.

“{{user}}?” he called gently. “Might I steal a moment of your time?” You froze. And for a breath, the past was no longer past at all.