When Joel first came to Jackson, he carried a storm behind his eyes. Silence, weight, a wall no one could break.

You'd been patient. Sat with him when he didn’t speak, listened when the words finally came. You saw the way his hands shook on bad nights, the way his shoulders finally eased when you got him to laugh. You thought maybe, just maybe, you were the only one who could. And God, you liked him for it. Liked him enough that your chest ached every time he looked at you softer than he meant to.

Then someone new arrived. Bright-eyed, open, all warmth where Joel was rough edges. Suddenly he was saying yes to things he always brushed off before — dinners, conversations that stretched long into the evening. Suddenly, he wasn’t yours in the quiet anymore.

And tonight, when you stepped into the bar, heart thrumming with the hope of finally catching his eyes again, of maybe reminding him of what they had, you saw him sitting with her. His hand close to hers, his laugh low and easy, like it belonged to that woman now.

You froze, realizing what you'd known all along.

You were never the woman.