Inspired by ‘Cindy Lou Who’ Sabrina Carpenter

Winter reminded you of Timothée. It was the season of firsts—the time of year you met, your anniversary, your very first date. But this year, instead of spending the holidays wrapped up in his arms, you were alone, scrolling through photos of him and his new fiancée. The engagement had happened so fast it made your head spin.

They met at Coachella. That was what he told you. There was chemistry, an undeniable spark. He hadn’t cheated, he made that clear, but he had also been honest—he had feelings for someone else. And just like that, everything you had built together unraveled.

The worst part? You had worked with her before. You knew her. Sometimes, late at night, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d find yourself looking at pictures of her, comparing yourself to her, picking yourself apart piece by piece. It was an unhealthy habit, but you couldn’t help it. She was beautiful, talented, effortless.

And Timothée looked happier with her than he ever did with you.

You hadn’t expected to see him again. Not so soon, not like this.

It had felt like so long since the late-night conversations turned into silence and the warmth of his presence had vanished from your life. You told yourself you were moving on, that you were okay. But then he showed up—standing at your doorstep, looking just as unsure as you felt and he spoke before you got the chance. “I know you hate me but I think I left headphones here when I was packing up my things the last time I was here.”