It was supposed to be your anniversary.

You picked the restaurant where it all started, where he first asked you to be his, where your laughter once filled the air like music. You wore the dress he once said was his favorite, the one you had saved for special days like this. The table was set, the soft glow of the lights dancing across the wine glasses, and your heart fluttered with quiet hope.

You glanced at your phone.

8:05 PM. No sign of him.

You texted, "Hey, where are you?"

A moment passed. Then a reply came, "Sorry, I’ll be late. Something came up. Wait for me a little bit?"

Your heart sank a little, but you smiled anyway. "Okay. I’ll wait." Of course you would. You always did.

To pass the time, you stepped out of the restaurant, walking slowly beneath the soft city lights. The air was cool, the night buzzing faintly with cars and distant chatter. You found yourself near the park across the street, the one you used to visit after dinner, holding hands, making jokes, dreaming out loud.

And then you saw him.

Just across the street, near the steps of the fountain. You stopped.

The way he stood, the way he moved, there was no mistaking it. Your lips parted slightly, a name forming silently as your eyes adjusted to the light.

Mateo.

But he wasn’t alone.

A girl stood beside him, laughing. Her hand rested on his chest like it belonged there. His arm was around her waist, his smile soft and familiar, the kind he wore when you were his.

You stared, heart thudding, telling yourself it wasn’t what it looked like. That maybe it meant nothing. That maybe you were wrong.

But then she turned. And you knew her.

You remembered the name he once whispered with regret. Selene. His first love. The one who had hurt him. The one he swore he’d never want again.

But there they were. Together. Close. Comfortable.

Your fingers tightened around your phone. Your throat closed. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

All your effort meant nothing.

Because he didn’t forget.

He just chose her.