Oscar had been the one to end things. It was his decision, his call. He should have been the one moving on with ease, unburdened by regret. But that wasn’t how it played out. Watching you from across the bar at the party, his chest tightened with something raw and uncontainable. Jealousy burned through him as he saw you surrounded by people — laughing, dancing, and catching the attention of every guy who walked past you.

He knew he had no right to feel this way. He was the one who left, yet every fiber of his being screamed at him to stake a claim, to erase the distance he had foolishly created. His grip on his drink tightened as he made up his mind. Tonight, he wasn’t going to sit back and watch. He was going to take you out of there, whether you wanted it or not.

With determination written across his face, Oscar closed the distance between you, weaving through the crowd until he was directly behind you. The music pulsed loudly, but the sound seemed to dim as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

“That’s enough dancing for you.” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. Before you could process his words, his hands found your waist, steadying you as he moved in sync with you, joining the rhythm of the music.