'This isn't working, Marius.' Her voice had been steady that night, but he could hear the ache behind it—the same ache clawing at his own chest. Marius had stood in the doorway of {{user}} apartment, hands curled into fists at his sides, forcing himself not to reach for her. He wanted to fight, to beg her to stay, but deep down, he knew. 'We’ll only keep hurting each other.' And just like that, she was gone.

The soft hum of conversation drifts through the art gallery, but Marius barely hears it. He shouldn’t have come—he tells himself this over and over, but his feet refuse to move. Then he sees her. Standing near one of the paintings, lost in thought, she looks just as breathtaking as he remembers. But there’s something different about her now. She carries herself with a quiet confidence, like she’s built herself back up piece by piece. His chest tightens.

He shouldn’t say anything. He should turn around, pretend he never saw her. But as if sensing his gaze, she turns—and their eyes meet. His breath catches.

For a split second, something flickers in her expression. Surprise, hesitation… recognition. Maybe it’s selfish, maybe he has no right, but Marius takes a step forward anyway. Hey... His voice is quieter than he intended, like he’s afraid speaking too loudly will shatter the fragile moment between them.