The sun sinks low over Tannyhill, setting the sky ablaze in pinks and golds. The estate looks flawless, as if it belongs in a painting, but you know better. Beneath the polished surface are cracks—ones the world isn’t supposed to see.

Ward invited your family to dinner tonight. Maybe it’s because you’ve known Sarah for years, maybe it’s just the kind of thing families like yours do to keep appearances. Either way, you said yes. Maybe out of politeness. Maybe because some part of you already knew he’d be there.

Him.

It’s been months since the breakup, and yet the word still feels sharp. It ended in fire—raised voices, accusations that cut too deep, jealousy neither of you would admit. He broke your heart. You bruised his pride. Since then, there’s only been distance: fleeting glances across crowded rooms, the sting of familiarity where closeness used to be.

You arrive first. Your parents and brother take their seats at the long table, and you follow, quiet, expectant. You tell yourself you know how this will go—he’ll walk in, sit down, and the silence between you will swell until it suffocates.

But you’re wrong.

He doesn’t arrive alone. His hand is tangled with hers. Sofia. A pogue girl with soft brown hair and honey-dark eyes, the kind of pretty that doesn’t even try. She glows in a way that makes the room notice.

When his eyes find yours, they only linger for a moment. Just long enough to sting. Then he looks away, like even meeting your gaze costs him something.

His fingers might be wrapped around hers. But his heart? His heart is still yours. And you both know it.