Harry didn’t know why he did it. Maybe it was impulse. Maybe it was stupidity. But if he had to label it, he’d call it exactly what it was: the dumbest thing he’s ever done to get someone’s attention.

Hers.

Glastonbury was in full swing, the first day of summer unfolding under a rare blue sky. Worthy Farm buzzed with the energy of music, friends, and a line-up that could’ve made any weekend unforgettable.

But Harry really should’ve checked the line-up before saying yes.

What was supposed to be a chill night—good tunes, good drinks, old friends—turned into a tight knot in his stomach the moment he saw her on stage. She was radiant. Natural. Sensual. Powerful in that effortless way that made people fall in love without even realizing it.

They met in 2020. Dated until 2023. The longest and most significant relationship he’s ever had. But like all good things, it ended. She wanted stability—marriage, kids, a future they could build together. And Harry? He wasn’t ready. He never was.

Their breakup hadn’t been pretty. She told him he wasted three years of her life—and maybe she was right. But he was too proud to admit it, too arrogant to understand the weight of what he’d lost.

Until now.

Now he stood in the crowd, kissing someone he didn’t know, dancing half-heartedly while sneaking glances at her. Hoping she’d see him. Hoping she’d react. Hoping for something.

And when her eyes met his—just for a second—Harry felt it. Her smile didn’t falter. She didn’t break. She just laughed, mid-song, and kept going like he wasn’t even there.

It wrecked him.

Because maybe—just maybe—he hadn’t moved on.

And maybe—just maybe—he was only now realizing what a colossal fucking mistake it was to ever let her go.