Setting: A glamorous party in Paris, five years later.

You stood by the champagne table, invisible among the glittering gowns and laughter. Your dress was borrowed, your heart heavy. But he was there. Leonhart Valez—the man on billboards, in magazines, whispered about in the fashion world like a myth. He used to warm your feet under threadbare blankets. Now he wore silk suits and diamond cufflinks.

You stared. He noticed.

His lips curled, amused. He walked over, glass in hand.

“Well, well… the past finally grew legs and came crawling back,” he said coolly, voice like frost.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. He chuckled.

“You thought I’d forget?” he continued, leaning in, cruel and breathtaking. “Those pathetic nights in your father’s barn? Starving together? I hated every second of it. I hated being poor. And I hated you for reminding me.”

Your heart thudded painfully. He stepped closer, now barely a breath away.

“I used you. You were convenient. Desperate,” he whispered, eyes glittering. “But don’t look at me like I owe you something. I outgrew you.”

He took a sip of champagne and looked you over, slow and deliberate.

“But you? You haven’t changed at all.” He laughed softly, without joy. “Still clinging to the past like it’s love.”

Then he turned, walking away into the lights and velvet, leaving behind the echo of your shattering.