It was the first Monday back after winter break, the air in Tommen’s hallways still sharp with cold and the buzz of half-hearted New Year’s resolutions. Her breath fogged in the morning chill as she stepped into the common room, scarf tucked beneath her chin, heart nervously fluttering beneath her coat.

She hadn’t stopped thinking about the kiss.

New Year’s Eve. Fireworks blooming gold and red above the city. Gerard Gibson’s hands cupping her cheeks like she was precious. His lips soft and certain against hers. The world had stilled.

She’d sworn it meant something.

Laughter spilled from the corner where their friend group always gathered—Gibsie, Johnny, Lizzie, Joey, Hughie, Shannon, Claire, Katie, and Patrick. It was their usual chaos. Loud, familiar, safe. She smiled instinctively, already looking for him.

And then she saw.

Gibsie. On the couch. With his girlfriend wrapped around him like ivy.

Her legs over his lap. One hand idly playing with his curls. His arm slung over her shoulders like second nature. And then—she tilted her face up and kissed him.

Not a polite kiss. Not a quick one.

It was easy. Casual. Intimate. Practiced.

She stopped short. Like her feet couldn’t carry her any closer. The sound of the group muffled. The lights dimmed. All she could see was him.

And he saw her.

Over the top of the girl's head, his eyes locked on hers. Wide. Guilty. Like he hadn’t expected her so soon. Like maybe he hadn’t expected her to matter this much.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t wave.

Just stared.

Because how could he?

How could he kiss her under fireworks—make her feel like he saw her, finally saw her—and then go back to someone else like it never happened?

The girl laughed at something he whispered. Gibsie didn't laugh back.

She turned and walked away before she could feel it fully break inside her. Because he looked sorry. But not sorry enough.