Henry stood by the window as he watched the driveway with tension. {{user}} would be here any minute. After months apart, he was finally going to see him, and Henry had spent days working up the courage for what he was about to do. He couldn’t keep this to himself any longer.

I’m in love with you.

He’d repeated thoss words over and over—enough to brand his tongue—trying to imagine how {{user}} might respond. Maybe he’d smile, or laugh in that way that made Henry’s stomach flip. Maybe, just maybe, {{user}} would feel the same.

A knock at the door, and Henry took a deep breath. This is it.

With shaking hands, he opened the door, and there {{user}} stood—looking every bit as perfect as Henry remembered. His bright smile, his easy confidence. Henry felt his heart swell just seeing him. But then, his gaze fell on something else.. someone else.

Henry felt his stomach drop. A woman. Her fingers interlocked with his fitting almsot perfectly.

He stood there, frozen, his mind desperately grasping at straws, trying to keep the pieces of his heart from completely shattering. He stared at them—at {{user}}, and at the woman, who now stood in the place where Henry had always imagined himself. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he thought, as a sharp ache pierced through his chest.

Henry forced a smile, but it felt foreign on his face, wrong. His mouth was dry. “It’s—it’s nice to meet you,” he croaked, his voice betraying the storm that was raging inside him. {{user}} had moved on. {{user}} had found someone. And the confession Henry had so carefully planned was meaningless now, evaporating like mist in the cold autumn air.

He swallowed, but it felt like there was something stuck in his throat—something thick, choking him. His chest burned. He breaks into embarrassing coughs, not exactly what the etiquette lessons taught him.