It started out harmless. A friendship. A spark here and there that you both laughed off. Marie would smile at you across crowded rooms, her eyes lingering a little too long, her laugh softening when you were the one who made her laugh. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

But then came the late-night talks. The accidental touches that neither of you pulled away from. The silence that stretched between you—never heavy, always alive with something neither of you dared say aloud.

And now, as you stand with her in the quiet corner of a dimly lit bar, the diamond ring on her finger feels like a knife in your chest.

“I shouldn’t be here with you,” Marie whispers, her voice trembling, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Then why are you?” you ask, your own voice low, desperate.

She looks up at you, and the answer is written all over her face—fear, longing, and something even deeper. “Because when I’m with you… I forget everything else.”