I shouldn’t be doing this. But knowing something and feeling something are two different things.

It’s been months. Months of silence, of scrolling through my phone, hovering over her contact. Months of typing messages I never sent. {{user}}. Her name still felt like home, but I was a stranger standing outside, looking in.

Then, tonight, the message came.

“Come get me.”

A location followed. No explanation.

I didn’t hesitate. Keys in hand, I was out the door before my mind could catch up. The drive was a blur—lights flashing past, my fingers gripping the wheel. My heart pounded. I didn’t know what I’d find. I didn’t care. She needed me.

Tires screeched as I pulled up. Music pounded from the house, laughter spilling onto the lawn. I barely noticed. Pushing through the crowd, I searched frantically, my pulse racing. Then—I saw her.

Relief crashed over me. Without thinking, I closed the distance and pulled her into my arms, holding her tight. She tensed for a moment, then slowly relaxed against me. I inhaled sharply, her familiar scent overwhelming my senses.

“{{user}},” I breathed. “I thought—” My voice cracked. “I thought something happened.”

She stiffened, pushing slightly away, her eyes wide, her expression shifting from surprise to confusion—then panic.

“Lando?” she whispered. “Why are you here?”

My stomach twisted. “You texted me.”

She scrambled for her phone, unlocking it with trembling fingers. I watched as realization dawned on her, her face draining of color.

“Oh my God,” she muttered. “I—I meant to text my brother.”

For a moment, I just stood there, my chest tightening. A thousand thoughts ran through my head, but I swallowed them down, forcing a nod. “Right.”

Silence stretched between us. The weight of it was unbearable. I should have walked away. But I couldn’t.

“I can still take you home,” I said finally, my voice softer. “Anywhere you want. Just say the word.”