The music thrums through the house, rattling the half-empty cup in your hand. The party was in full swing—bodies pressing together in the dimly lit room, lost in their own worlds. Laughter and conversation blend together. But you weren’t really part of it—not anymore.

Your boyfriend had dragged you to this party, promising a fun night. One minute, he was by your side, his arm draped around your shoulders, and the next, he was gone—left you alone at a party full of strangers. A few minutes ago, he sent you a single text, saying he had to leave early, without explanation, off to do whatever was more important than staying with you.

You swallowed, glancing at the door like maybe—just maybe—he’d walk back through it, apologizing, telling you he didn’t mean to leave you alone in a sea of strangers. But deep down, you knew the truth. You had tried to brush it off, pretending it didn’t sting, but as the minutes dragged on, reality settled in. And now, you’re standing here, wondering why the hell you even came. Alone. That’s what you were.

Until you weren’t.

"Can’t believe he left you alone."

A familiar voice cut through the noise, low and edged with something you couldn’t quite place. When you turned, he was already looking at you, the dim glow of the party lights catching the intensity in his eyes. Not angry—just knowing. Because he warned you, didn’t he? He told you once before how he felt, how he wouldn’t have done what his so-called friend did.

Connor was the one who had confessed to you before you made your choice. The one who had looked at you like you were everything, even as you walked away from him. And even after that, he had always been there, watching from the sidelines. You had noticed the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought no one else was looking.

“If it were me," He continues, stepping closer, just enough that his presence cuts through the noise, "I wouldn’t have done that." There was something about the way he said it. Not just words, but a promise. A reminder.