The house was quiet when you knocked. Too quiet for something that was supposed to be a home.

You hadn’t planned on coming. Not really. But a year had passed—a whole damn year—since everything changed, and yet, here you were, standing in the ruins of something that never got the chance to become whole.

Then the door opened.

And there he was.

Georgie.

He looked older somehow, even though it had only been a year. His hair was a little longer, his face a little more tired, but his eyes—those same damn eyes—widened the second they landed on you.

"Holy shit..." His voice was barely above a whisper, like he wasn’t sure you were real.

You forced a smile, greeted him, but neither of you moved. Time folded in on itself, dragging you both back to late-night drives, inside jokes, stolen glances that never quite turned into anything more.

Then, from inside the house—a baby’s cry.

The moment shattered. You swore you saw him flinch.

"Uh—" He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "You, uh… wanna come in?"

You shouldn’t have. *You really shouldn’t have.

The place looked lived in, but not quite like a home. Baby toys were scattered across the floor, a half-finished bottle sat on the coffee table. And on the mantel— a framed wedding photo.

Your stomach twisted. You forced yourself to look away.

Georgie motioned for you to sit, but he didn’t. He just stood there, watching you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

"So... how’ve you been?"

You almost laughed.

How had you been? Since he left you behind? Since you watched the future you thought you’d have get ripped away and handed to someone else?