Hugh sat on the brown leather couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table in front of him. The room, lit only by a lamp, seemed as empty as he felt. The decision to break up with his partner had been inevitable, but that didn’t make it any less painful. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, you were eating away at his mind, making him tremble with rage at not being able to hold you back. He was used to solving problems, to being rational, but now everything seemed out of control. However, what really bothered him was you. He had seen you earlier at an event, holding hands with your boyfriend. Your laughter echoed through his mind, a memory so vivid it felt like torture. He knew he had no right to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it. As he twirled the glass of whiskey in his hand, Hugh felt like something inside him had lost its way.

That same day, Hugh was standing at the edge of the red carpet, greeting colleagues and waving to photographers. He had learned to master that practiced smile, the perfect facade of someone who was okay. But then you appeared. Your dress was elegant, your posture impeccable, and the man beside you looked completely enchanted. Hugh watched from afar, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. There was something cruelly poetic about seeing you with someone else, something he could never put into words.