“You’re a fucking coward!”

{{user}}’s voice was sharp, cutting through the drunken haze between us. She was swaying slightly, all glassy-eyed fury, and Jesus, did she hate me.

Four years. That’s how long it had been like this. Four years since she stopped looking at me the way she used to.

I let out a slow breath, leveling her with a look. “Oh, here we go.”

Her nostrils flared. “Here we go?” she repeated, voice rising. “That’s all you have to say? I told you how I felt, and you didn’t even have the guts to say no to my face. You just—” she threw her hands up, nearly losing her balance, “—you just went with Eva!”

That fucking name. I was so sick of hearing it. Eva Kelly and I broke up centuries ago.

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling hard. “Are you seriously bringing this up again?”

“Yes, Rory!” she snapped, jabbing a finger at my chest. “Because you broke my fucking heart.”

Something twisted in my stomach. “That’s rich, coming from you,” I bit out. “You’ve spent the last four years acting like I killed your dog—”

“Because you did!” she practically yelled. “Metaphorically.”

“Right,” I muttered. “That clears it up.”

Her eyes were wild, shining with frustration. “I wrote you a letter, Rory.”

I blinked. “What?”

“The letter!” she repeated, voice cracking. “I asked you to the dance! And you didn’t even—” she shook her head, hurt flickering across her face, “—you just didn’t say anything. You let me sit there like a fucking fool while you went off with Eva.”

I stared at her, heartbeat slamming against my ribs.

A letter?

Slowly, my voice rough, I asked, “What letter?”

Her jaw tightened. “A fucking letter, Kavanagh!”

I took a step closer. “Yeah, a letter,” I said. “But what fucking letter, {{user}}?”

Because I never saw a letter. Never even fucking knew there was one.

And from the look on her face, I could tell—she was realising that too.