too familiar.

You and Theodore had dated for two years before you ended things. You weren’t in a good place—mentally, emotionally, physically. Everything felt like it was crumbling: your grades, your motivation, your room, your sense of self. And still, Theo stayed. He tried—really tried—to help you, to anchor you, to bring you back to yourself. But you didn’t let him. You pushed him away. Slowly at first. Then all at once. You ended your relationship. done.

That was over a year ago.

Now, you’re different. Healthier. Sharper. Stronger. Bolder. And it wasn’t because of the breakup—it was because of you. You chose change. You’d gone on a few dates here and there since, but nothing serious. You hadn’t seen or spoken to Theo since that final blowout.

You’re at a party tonight. You’re tipsy, tired, your heels ache, and your head’s spinning just enough to make the music blur. You step outside for air and call your brother, Mattheo, to come pick you up. He says he’s on his way—no questions asked, like always.

Mattheo and Theo still talk. Still best friends. You never cared to ask how that worked.

You’re waiting on the curb, arms crossed, eyes scanning headlights.

Then a car pulls up—a sleek black car that makes something in your chest shift.

It looks familiar.

Too familiar.

The window rolls down.

Theodore.

Then it hit you, Mattheo sent him to get you.

He stares at you, jaw tight, gaze unreadable. Like he’s seeing a ghost. Or maybe hoping he is.

His voice cuts through the silence—low, calm, cold.

“Get in.”