They were just grabbing food. Nothing serious — Rafe and Topper slid into a booth like they always did, the kind of spot where you didn’t need to talk about anything real. Topper was going off about something — a party next weekend, maybe. Rafe wasn’t listening.

Not until you walked in.

You didn’t see them right away. You were with Sarah, head low, laughing at something she said. Your hair was pulled back like you used to do when you wanted him to notice your neck. You still wore that necklace. The one he gave you — or maybe one that just looked too much like it.

Topper clocked you a second later.

“Damn,” he said, leaning back a little. “She looks good today.”

Rafe’s jaw tensed.

Topper grinned. “You ever think about how weird it is? Me and her?”

Rafe didn’t look at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, she used to be with you. And now—” Topper chuckled, shaking his head. “Now she’s mine. Wild, huh?”

It hung in the air like smoke. Heavy. Bitter.

Rafe didn’t reply. Just kept his eyes fixed on the spot where you had stood moments ago, your perfume still faintly in the air. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t argue. But inside, something twisted hard.

Because yeah. It was wild.

Wild that he still knew every soft part of you. Wild that he still caught himself imagining what your name would sound like with his last name. Wild that he let you go and now had to sit across from the person who took your place.

“Yeah,” Rafe muttered finally, barely audible. “Wild.”

Topper didn’t notice the way his voice cracked.

But Sarah did, from across the room. She saw the way he looked at you — like he never stopped.

Because he hadn’t.