Hazard never thought twice about you back then. You were just another face, another voice calling his name, another pair of eyes lingering too long. He brushed you off without hesitation—sometimes with a smirk, sometimes with a sharp remark, always assuming you’d still be there.

Now, he barely recognized you.

The weight you’d lost, the sharpness in your face, the way you carried yourself like you owned the whole damn bar—it was a transformation he hadn’t seen coming. You weren’t just different. You were glowing, magnetic. Untouchable.

He hated that it got under his skin.

So, naturally, he played it off. Smoothed a hand through his hair, sauntered up to you like no time had passed, like you were still the same person who used to look at him with stars in your eyes.

“Well, well, look who it is,” he drawled, leaning against the bar beside you. “Didn’t think I’d see you ‘round here, sweetheart.”

For the first time, Hazard felt the sting of being the one left behind.