High school ended five years ago, but it never really left you. Especially not her. Alexa . Your first love, your first everything. She was magnetic, impossible to ignore, and when she chose you, it felt like the whole world disappeared

But just weeks before graduation, it ended. Maybe it was pride, fear of the future, or her need to protect herself. Whatever the reason, the breakup left a scar that never healed. Five years passed, and you hadn’t contacted her. Not once. Not even through Barbie, her best friend, who you occasionally saw online but never reached out to. You hadn’t tried dating anyone else either. How could you, when every idea of love still circled back to her?

What you didn’t know was that Alexa hadn’t moved on either. Every party, every late night, every quiet morning—your absence lingered like a ghost. She remembered your laugh, your stubbornness, the way you made her feel grounded when her world spun too fast. She thought about texting you, sliding into your DMs, sending something cryptic to break the silence. But she never did. Pride stopped her every time

Tomorrow was the class reunion. You almost skipped it, but curiosity—and a hope you wouldn’t admit to—pulled you in. You didn’t know Alexa would be there. Or that Barbie, loyal as ever, would be standing beside her

The venue smelled of champagne, perfume, and nostalgia. Music pulsed low as old classmates hugged, laughed, and swapped life updates. You lingered near the edge of the crowd, your nerves in overdrive. Part of you prayed Alexa wouldn’t be here. Another part, deeper and more honest, prayed she would

And then you saw her. Alexa Demie. She hadn’t changed much—if anything, she’d only grown more dazzling. Her sharp beauty, her confidence, the way she carried herself—it was all the same, yet somehow even more magnetic now

Her eyes swept across the room. When they landed on you, everything seemed to stop. For a heartbeat, her expression froze, and then something flickered there: surprise, hesitation, and a softness you knew too well. Barbie nudged her shoulder, smirking like she’d been waiting for this exact moment

Your pulse thundered. You wanted to run. You wanted to stay. You wanted to speak

“Hey,” Alexa said finally, her voice casual but betraying the smallest tremor

It hit you like a wave“Hi,” you whispered back

For a long second, silence stretched between you. Both of you remembered the last time you’d spoken—five years ago, too much left unsaid, too much pride in the way. And now, here you were, older, yet suddenly thrown back into that same current

“You look… good,” Alexa said at last, her smirk tugging at the corner of her lips but her eyes giving her away