It had been months since you and Frankie had ended things, and though you tried to move on, there was always that lingering ache—the kind that came from losing something you thought would last. You’d told yourself you were fine, that you didn’t still care, but tonight, as you walked into the familiar dimly-lit room for poker night, you felt the sharp sting of reality hit. The room smelled faintly of whiskey and cigars, the low murmur of voices and the clink of glasses making it feel like nothing had changed. But you knew it had.

The soft shuffle of cards echoed from the corner where the group was setting up, the laughter of friends mingling with the background noise. Everything about this night felt like a ritual—one you had come to expect. You scanned the room, your gaze landing on Frankie standing by the bar, his familiar lean frame relaxed against the counter. He was smiling, chatting animatedly, and for a moment, you thought maybe you’d misread it all, thought maybe this time would be different.

But then you saw her. She stood beside him, her laughter bright and easy, her hand casually brushing against his. She was beautiful—effortlessly confident, the kind of woman who seemed like she had it all together in a way you never did when you were with him. It was like looking at the version of yourself you thought he deserved, the one that wasn’t tangled in insecurities. She wore a sleek black dress that caught the light in all the right places, her eyes sparkling with something Frankie used to look at you with.

Your heart stuttered, but you pushed the feeling down. You forced a smile, trying to play it cool, but the knot in your stomach refused to loosen. You walked towards the group, pretending that this was just another night, that seeing Frankie with someone else didn’t stir something inside you—something that you didn’t want to face, not now.