The parking lot was almost empty now, the echo of cheers from the rugby match long gone. Just you and Hughie Biggs standing under the flickering light, the silence between you heavier than the humid night air.

It had been a year since the breakup. A year of pretending to be fine, of avoiding glances in crowded halls, of hearing his laugh from across the pitch and forcing yourself not to look. But now, after some stupid comment, some long-buried feeling bubbling up, you were here, arguing again.

“Who are you?” Hugh demanded, his voice breaking through the cool night air. “Because the girl standing in front of me isn’t the same one I—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound cracking in the quiet. “Who are you to say that?” you shot back. “You don’t even know me anymore, Hugh. You don’t get to ask who I am when you’re the one who walked away.”

He flinched like you’d hit him, jaw tightening as he ran a hand through his hair. The same hand that used to hold yours.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension hung between you, years of love, heartbreak, and things left unsaid twisting into one charged silence until Hughie spoke

"Yeah, I walked away, but who's fault was that" he said dryly