The music pulsed through the house, bass heavy enough to rattle against the walls. Laughter spilled from every corner, drinks sloshed in red cups, and bodies moved in a blur of neon lights and drunken rhythm. The party was alive, chaotic, the kind of night that should’ve felt like freedom. Hughie had been with his girlfriend earlier, smiling, arm draped over her shoulders, the perfect boyfriend in a perfect picture. But somewhere between the laughter and the noise, she had lost him.

He’d been drinking, already flushed and glassy-eyed, while Katie remained steady, sober enough to notice his absence. It wasn’t unusual—Hughie could disappear into the crowd, swept up by friends and familiar faces. Still, unease pulled her from the noise, feet guiding her through crowded hallways lined with coats and the smell of spilled alcohol.

The noise dulled as Katie pushed through a door at the far end of the hall. The dim light spilled across a scene that stole the air from her lungs.

There he was—Hughie. His hands tangled in your hair, your arms looped around his neck, your lips pressed together in a kiss that looked effortless. Familiar. Like instinct. They moved with the ease of something that had always existed, as though no time or heartbreak had ever severed it.

Katie froze, every part of her locking in place, though her throat threatened to close. It shouldn’t have surprised her—not really. A part of her had always known. For every smile, every whisper, every moment she thought was hers, you had your claim.

It was in the way his shoulders relaxed against you. The way he fit in you presence like he belonged.

Hughie pulled back suddenly, finally noticing Katie standing a few feet away. Her expression betrayed her—broken, wounded, but not surprised. Because this was always where it was going to end. Not with a fight. Not with a choice.

But with the quiet confirmation that you had always been the girl meant for Hughie Biggs.