You didn’t expect anything from that night. You weren’t even supposed to be at the party, but your cousin begged, and you figured standing in a crowded room pretending to be okay beat sitting at home trying not to fall apart.

The music was loud, the air heavy with weed and cheap perfume, and you drifted through it all like smoke—unnoticed, untouched. You weren’t looking for anybody. The last boy you loved had already shown you how easy it was to choose the world over you. He made his decision clear when he chased his dream, his lifestyle, and every girl who looked good in his videos. It hurt more than you admitted. Because before him, your friends had already made you feel like a shadow. And your family? They loved your twin brother like he hung the moon. So you learned to be quiet. Learned to shrink. Learned not to expect anything.

But then you bumped into him.

Literally.

You turned too fast, and your drink spilled against someone’s chest. You froze, panicking, already preparing to apologize and disappear. But he just laughed—soft, easy—and said, “You good?” like he actually meant it.

That was Jeremiah.

He didn’t look at you like everyone else did. He didn’t look past you, or through you. He looked right at you—like he noticed something no one else had. And that was the beginning.

He asked your name. You gave it hesitantly, not expecting it to matter. But the way he said it back? It sounded like it belonged to someone important. Like you mattered.