You hadn’t planned on going to the reunion. The idea of walking back into those halls brought back too many memories—some warm, most sharp. High school had never been kind to either of you. He came from Egypt, new and quiet, with skin darker than most in town. And you… well, you weren’t much of a fighter, but you chose to stand beside him. That made you a target too.

You remembered the way the others whispered. The looks. The slurs. How he’d ball his fists in silence while you tried to crack jokes just to ease the pain. No one else sat with him at lunch. No one else cared to know his story. Except you.

But life happened. College, work, distance. Promises to stay in touch faded into unread messages and years apart.

Tonight, the gym was decorated with nostalgia—banners, fairy lights, bad 2000s music. Familiar faces mingled with forced laughter and fake hugs. You scanned the room, heart thudding, not sure what you were even hoping for.

And then, he walked in.

Taller. Broader. A presence you could feel before you saw him. The boy they broke had become a man they’d never dare touch now. His eyes swept the crowd—sharp, searching—and stopped the moment they landed on you.

You stood frozen for a beat, memories flooding in like a wave. And then you walked over, slow at first, then faster, the years between you crumbling with every step.