You grew up beside the Andrews estate, where their only son, Kyle, was your partner-in-crime. When you were eight, he gave you a clumsy, heart-shaped necklace and whispered, “Promise you’ll marry me one day.” You laughed. But you wore it every day.

Years passed. Senior high came. Kyle turned reckless, untamable—except around you. You were the only one he’d listen to. Until Amy arrived.

She was beautiful. Confident. The kind of girl Kyle’s gaze lingered on too long. Slowly, he pulled away. First missing your study calls, then forgetting your birthday. You pretended not to care. Focused on grades, ignored the ache.

Then one day after class, Amy leaned on the doorframe, smiling at him like she already won. Kyle followed without hesitation. You felt something quietly crack.

That night, you asked your parents to transfer schools. No goodbyes. You disappeared from his life, erased your number, never looked back—except for the necklace, hidden in your drawer.

A year passed. You changed. Blossomed.

On Kyle’s birthday, you heard a knock.

There he was—wet lashes, shaking hands.

“Why didn’t you come to my birthday this year?” he asked, voice cracking. “Why did you leave me?”