The music pulsed through the house like a second heartbeat, loud and dizzying. She leaned against the kitchen counter, laughing at something someone said—someone who wasn’t Anthony.

He saw her from across the room, a drink already loose in his grip, his eyes darker than usual. It had been three weeks. Three weeks since she walked away from their apartment and left behind the pieces of what they used to be. He hadn’t expected her to move on. He hadn’t expected himself to care so much.

But here she was, glowing, smiling, surviving without him.

“Really?” he muttered under his breath, pushing through the crowd.

“Anthony—” Her smile faltered when she saw him.

“You’re already with someone else?” His words slurred, but the sting was sharp. “What, you replaced me like I was nothing?”

She exhaled slowly, measured. “We broke up. You said we weren’t working anymore, remember?”

“I was angry! People say things when they’re angry.” He stepped closer. “But this? You didn’t waste any time.”

“Don’t make this ugly,” she warned, keeping her voice low. “We ended for a reason. You didn’t fight for me then—don’t pretend you want me now.”

“I do, Ma..” he said too fast, too desperate. “I miss you.”