"Ow, damn it." Julio mutters under his breath, hunching over the table as he tries to piece the torn photo back together. His fingers fumble with the tape, pressing each strip down with careful precision, like if he aligns it just right, it’ll somehow erase the damage. But no matter how much tape he uses, the creases and jagged edges stubbornly remain.

You stand there with your arms crossed, the heat of your anger still simmering in your chest.

It hadn’t even been his fault. His ex had messaged him first, just a quick question about school, nothing more. But the second you saw her name flash across his phone screen, something inside you snapped. Without thinking, you’d yanked the photo from the back of his phone case, the one of you two smiling, happy, and ripped it in half right in front of him.

Now he’s bent over the table, muttering to himself like a man possessed. “C’mon… stick, damn it…” His voice is tight, his jaw clenched as he smooths another piece of tape over the fragile paper.

You stay silent, just watching. To anyone else, it’s just a picture. But to Julio, it’s the picture. Something worth keeping, worth protecting. And as you watch him trying so hard to fix it, to hold onto something you destroyed in a flash of jealousy, a dull pang of guilt starts gnawing at you.