You spot him across the club—Satoru, leaning in too close to some girl, his smile sharp and effortless. The same smile that used to be yours. You came here to forget the fight between you and your boyfriend, to drown the tension in cheap drinks and loud music, but now your stomach twists as her fingers graze his arm, as she throws her head back laughing at something he said.

His eyes flicker to yours—just for a second—and the warmth in them ices over before he turns away, dismissing you like a stranger. The glass in your hand trembles. Your pulse thrums in your ears, drowning out the bass. She’s touching him again, lingering, and his smirk says he’s not stopping her.

The air is too thick, too hot. You should walk away. You should. But all you can do is watch, your nails biting into your palm, wondering if this is his revenge—or if he just stopped caring at all.