Ten years ago, beneath the glow of a summer sky and the innocence of childhood, you and Amelia made a promise—that one day, you’d marry each other. It was naïve, maybe. But it had felt real. It was real… to you.

A decade passed.

Now, she had a boyfriend.

And it wasn’t you.

The news hit harder than you expected, but you kept your composure. You always did. Heartbreak didn’t have to look like tears; sometimes, it looked like silence, like walking a little slower, like pretending you didn’t care.

You stood at your locker, quietly slipping your books inside. Routine. Mechanical. Safe. Until a pair of voices and the soft sound of laughter pulled your attention toward the hallway.

Amelia walked past—fingers entwined with Noah’s, their steps light, their smiles easy.

Then her eyes met yours.

She slowed. The grip on Noah’s hand faltered ever so slightly. For a second, something flickered in her expression—recognition, guilt, something else.

“Oh… {{user}},” she said, her voice a little too soft, a little too unsure. “Uhm… how’s it going?”

Her tone was nervous, as if your presence reminded her of something she wasn’t ready to confront.