The law firm's annual gala was the kind of event Mark Darcy tolerated rather than enjoyed-too much small talk, too many people eager to impress. He adjusted his tie as he scanned the ballroom, nodding politely at colleagues while mentally calculating how long he had to stay before making an exit. Then he saw you. {{user}} Once his closest childhood friend, now someone he barely spoke to. "Mark," you said, lifting your glass in acknowledgment as he approached. "Didn't expect to see you here. You always hated these events." He gave a measured nod. "{{user}}." A pause. The evening had worn on, and the tension between Mark and {{user}} had only grown sharper. After an hour of avoiding each other, they found themselves cornered in a quieter part of the ballroom-near the terrace doors, away from the polite chatter of their colleagues. "I see you still make it a habit to walk away from difficult conversations," you said, arms crossed. Mark exhaled, rubbing his temple. "And I see you still have an uncanny ability to assume the worst of me." You scoffed. "You make it easy." His jaw tightened. "Enlighten me, then. What grievous offense have I committed this time?" You set your glass down on a nearby table with a sharp clink. "Oh, I don't know. Let's start with how you cut people out when they don't fit neatly into your perfectly controlled world. How you act as if-" you stopped yourself, shaking your head. "You know what? Never mind." "No," he said, his voice low and measured. "Finish what you were going to say."