You met Felix in autumn. He had a smile that could thaw December, and a voice that made everything else feel distant.

He made you laugh when no one else could. He remembered little things— your favorite drink, your fear of thunder, the way you bite your lip when you're nervous.

It felt like fate.

Until it wasn't.

---

Her.

You met her three months later. She was sweet. Beautiful. Perfect for him.

And she saw him the way everyone else did: the golden boy.

What she didn’t see— was the way his smile lingered longer when it was you he talked to. The way he always stood just a little closer to you in a crowd. The way he never said “I love you” around her, but looked like he almost said it around you.

Almost.

---

“You okay?” he asked once, when he caught you staring off.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Just tired.”

He nodded.

He didn’t know the tired came from loving someone who belonged to someone else.

---

Then came that night.

A party. Lights. Music. Everyone laughing.

He danced with her.

You watched from across the room. A drink in your hand. A hollow in your chest.

She kissed him. Right there. Right in front of everyone.

And Felix smiled.

---

Your chest tightened. You left quietly. No one noticed.

Except him.

He followed you outside minutes later.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

“Just needed air.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

You hesitated.

Then looked up at him—those soft brown eyes searching your face like he knew.

“Do you love her?”

He blinked. Surprised.

Then nodded slowly.

“I think I do.”

You smiled. Soft. Breaking.

“That’s good. She’s lucky.”

He smiled back.

“Why does it feel like you're saying goodbye?"