The night was already warm and loud when you arrived at the house party—colorful lights flashing through the windows, the dull thump of bass vibrating the porch floor. You hesitated before stepping inside, adjusting your jacket as if that would protect you from the awkwardness.

You hadn’t been in the mood to socialize, but your best friend had begged you to come, claiming, “You need a change of scener. Maybe meet someone new, finally?”

So here you were.

The kitchen was crowded, the living room even more so, and you found yourself drifting toward the backyard—where it was quieter, where the fairy lights hung lazily across the fence, and where the cool air didn’t feel so heavy.

Jake found you there.

You remembered him vaguely—a mutual friend of a friend. He smiled easily, cracked a joke about how parties were just loud therapy sessions, and you couldn’t help but laugh. He was good company. Lighthearted. Safe.

You were mid-sip of your second drink when he offered you a seat on the patio bench. You sat beside him, close enough that your knees occasionally brushed. He said something dumb about the host’s playlist being stuck in 2012, and you laughed—your head tilting back, genuinely amused.

And that’s when he saw you.

Jerico.

You didn’t see him walk in—you had no idea he’d even been invited. But the moment he stepped into the backyard and spotted you, it was like the air shifted. The glass in his hand lowered slowly.

You, laughing. You, looking like you belonged next to Jake. You, glowing under string lights beside one of his friends.

His chest tightened. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was realization. That he still wasn’t over you.

Jake, blissfully unaware, kept talking. He leaned in a little closer, and you didn’t pull away. But then Jake glanced up—and his smile faltered.

“Uh… looks like someone wants to kill me,” he said under his breath, nodding behind you.

You turned around slowly.

And there he was.

He stood stiff near the doorway, arms crossed, eyes locked on you. That same black hoodie you used to steal was draped over his shoulders like it still meant something.

“Didn’t expect to see this tonight,” Jerico said, finally stepping forward.

You blinked, unsure if your drink was messing with you. “Jerico?”

Jake stood up awkwardly, smiling like he didn’t feel the tension. “Didn’t think you were coming.”

Jerico didn’t take his eyes off you. “Didn’t know I’d be walking into this.”

Jake looked confused. “This?”

Jerico’s tone dipped. “You entertaining my girl now?”

You snapped out of it, rising from the bench. “Ex-girl.”

Jerico’s eyes flicked to you, gaze heavy. “Still doesn’t sit right seeing you with him.”

There was something raw in the way he said it—something too honest to be brushed off.*

Jake raised his hands slightly. “Alright, I’ll uh… go check on the grill.” He backed away, giving you a quick nod before disappearing into the crowd inside.

You crossed your arms. “Really? You’re jealous now?”

Jerico sighed, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was caught off guard. “Didn’t plan to lose it the second I saw you.”

“You don’t get to be jealous,” you said quietly. “You broke up with me.”

“I know,” he said, voice lower now, more grounded. “But I didn’t walk away because I stopped loving you.”

“Then why?”

He met your eyes. “Because I thought I was the problem. Because I thought you’d move on and find someone who wouldn’t screw things up like I did.”

You stayed quiet. The silence wrapped around both of you like fog.

Jerico looked down for a second, then back up. “Turns out… I can’t watch someone else make you smile. I can’t pretend I’m okay with it.”

Your heart ached. You thought you’d prepared for this kind of moment—seeing him again, hearing his voice, hearing words you wished he’d said months ago.

“I was trying to move on,” you whispered.

“Me too,” he said. “But it didn’t work.”