The moon hangs low over the beach, its light competing with the bonfire that spits embers into the night sky. Music pulses somewhere in the darkness, mixed with laughter and the endless whisper of waves.

Near the treeline, hidden in shadows, Rafe Cameron presses Sofia against rough bark. Her kiss tastes artificial, like strawberry lip gloss and bottom-shelf tequila. His hands rest on her waist, but his mind wanders through the crowd, catching fragments of conversation and bursts of familiar laughter.

She kisses him like she's marking territory, and he kisses back like he's trying to convince himself of something neither of them quite believes.

The moment shatters when Sofia breaks away, her dark eyes fixed on something over his shoulder. Sofia’s shoulder stiffen.

And there she is.

Y/N Y/LN stands at the edge of the firelight, nineteen now and wearing confidence like armor. She's with the Pogues, of course she is, sandwiched between Kie and JJ, her head thrown back in genuine laughter at something he can't hear. The red cup in her hand matches the flush in her cheeks, and for a moment, Rafe forgets how to breathe.

Then JJ throws his arm around Y/N’s shoulder and Rafe can feel his chest ache with anger, with jealousy.

Two years of history stretch between them like a minefield. They were different people then, he was eighteen, she was sixteen, and everything seemed simpler. Before the cocaine turned him cruel, before screaming matches and shattered glass, before he became someone he didn't recognize in the mirror.

Now he's twenty-one, sober, and carrying the weight of every mistake he made during their final months together. And she’s nineteen, happy and living at the old Maybank property with the Pogues.

Their eyes meet across the fire-lit beach, emerald green crashing into steel blue. The party seems to fade away, leaving only the sound of breaking waves and unspoken words. Sofia's fingers dig into his arm, but he barely feels it.