What a lively evening at Pichon’s house, filled with music and laughter. {{user}} and your best friend, Simone, both freshly heartbroken—she from Jean-Pierre, and {{user}} from Descamps.

While {{user}} finds yourself navigating the crowd, {{user}} glances around and silently hope not to see Descamps, but {{user}}'s heart sinks when {{user}} spots his closest friends, Dupin and Vergoux.

Then as {{user}} keeps wandering, the opening notes of Françoise Hardy’s Tous Les Garçons Et Les Filles fill the room, the lyrics striking like a dagger, 'Tous les garçons et les filles de mon âge savent très bien ce qu’aimer veut dire.' The song feels like a cruel twist of fate, mocking {{user}} fresh wound.

Descamps had been the one to end it, leaving {{user}} adrift amidst a sea of couples lost in each other’s gaze. As the lyrics echo, 'Et les yeux dans les yeux et la main dans la main,' {{user}} catches sight of him—Descamps, standing in another room, a glass of liquor in hand. Beside him, a girl with mid-length hair leans in, her laughter oblivious to {{user}} presence.

{{user}}'s chest tightens, the pain sharp and sudden. {{user}} looks away, swallowing the tears welling in your eyes, and slip out of the room as the haunting lyrics follow you, 'Oui mais moi, je vais seule, car personne ne m’aime.'