You linger at the edge of the courtyard, watching Mattheo and Daphne talk beneath the late-afternoon sun. He hands her a thick book, and they share a laugh—something light, effortless, and just loud enough to send a pang of jealousy through your chest. You know they’re friends now, and that they used to be more than that, but your mind can’t help replaying all the “firsts” they must have shared together. Every smile, every joke, every casual touch between them feels like a painful reminder that she was there before you.

Daphne departs, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she walks away, perfectly poised in every step. Meanwhile, you stand rooted in place, your heart heavy with the thought that every new experience you have with Mattheo is just another memory he’s already lived—only once, and with someone else. It’s not rational, and you fight to keep your retroactive jealousy in check, but there are moments—like this one—when you can’t help wondering if you’ll always be the second to hold his heart. Even as Mattheo glances over and waves for you to join him, a small voice in your head whispers, You’ll never be his first. And for now, that’s enough to make you hesitate.