The night air is cool and alive with the sound of laughter and distant fireworks, the rooftop strung with fairy lights and silver streamers that catch the city’s glow. St. Ambrose’s New Year’s party is in full swing — doctors, interns, and nurses mingling, drinks in hand, music spilling through the open doors leading out from the ballroom.

You’ve found refuge at the edge of it all — standing alone by the railing, a glass of wine in one hand, the stem balanced lightly in your hand. Your other hand, the one that catches the light with a gold wedding band, rests on the metal rail with a cigarette in between two fingers.. You look peaceful but far away — eyes on the skyline, lips parting slightly every time a firework breaks open above the buildings.

Behind you, Addison Montgomery steps out from the noise and warmth of the party, her red hair catching the golden light. She’s radiant — as always — but different. Softer. There’s an engagement ring glinting on her finger now, the kind that feels heavy even from a distance. She’s laughing at something someone said when her eyes catch on you.

And just like that — her laughter dies.

You don’t see her at first, but she freezes for a moment, heart stumbling in her chest. You — the one she hadn’t seen in years. The one she thought she’d built a new life without. And there you are, looking effortlessly beautiful in a dark blue satin dress, a ring marking someone else’s promise.

She excuses herself, telling herself she’ll just say hello — just be polite. But there’s nothing casual about the way her steps slow as she approaches. You hear her heels before you hear her voice.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” she says softly, almost lost in the wind.

You turn, startled at first, then meet her gaze — “Addison.” You breathe out her name, like you’d been holding it in for years. You glance at the ring on her hand, then back to her eyes. “You look… happy.”

She gives a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m trying to be.”

You nod, looking away, tracing the rim of your wine glass with a finger. “Yeah. Me too.”

There’s a long silence, the kind that hums with everything unsaid — the apology that never came, the nights you both spent wondering about the other, the lives built on top of what was once yours.

Addison steps closer, her perfume wrapping around you — familiar, dizzying. “Their lucky, your partner” she says quietly, nodding at your ring.

You let out a breathy laugh. “So’s she.”

Silence settles over the two of you for a few moments, until she speaks again “Didn’t know you smoked.”