Seven months. Seven months of regret, of replaying every moment, every word, wondering if things could have been different. And now, here you were, at the gym, trying to distract yourself from the ache that refused to fade. But of course, this gym had to be the best in town, and of course, Carlos had to be here too — because life wasn’t cruel enough already.

You spotted him across the room, his familiar figure unmistakable. But he wasn’t alone. Rebecca was with him, her laughter ringing out as she leaned closer to him. Your chest tightened, the sight hitting you harder than you expected. You ducked into a small, empty room, your emotions bubbling over as you called your friends, desperate for some kind of solace.

“F#c# it if I can’t have him.” you muttered into the phone, your voice cracking as tears streamed down your face. Everything you said felt like teenage petulance, but you couldn’t stop. The pain, the jealousy, the longing — it all poured out in a messy, unfiltered stream.

Then, the door creaked open, and you jumped, startled. Standing there was Carlos, his hand still on the doorknob. His eyes widened slightly when he saw you, your tear-streaked face giving away everything you’d been trying to hide.

“Oh… I’m sorry, I thought it was empty.” he said, his voice soft, almost hesitant. For a moment, he just stood there, looking at you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.