You hadn’t expected it to hurt this much. Watching your ex-crush standing at the altar, exchanging vows with someone else, felt like a sharp crack straight through your chest. You forced a polite smile, clapped with everyone else, but the pressure behind your eyes gave you away. By the time you excused yourself to the restroom, your mascara was already betraying you.

Inside, you fumbled with a tissue, trying to touch up your makeup, breathing deep as if that could steady your heart. But when you pushed the door open again, lost in your own mess of thoughts, you didn’t notice the figure coming around the corner.

The collision was sudden—your bag slipped from your shoulder, spilling its contents across the polished floor. Lipstick rolled away, compact mirror snapped open, phone clattered loudly. You knelt down immediately, hands shaking, tears blurring your vision as you scrambled to gather your things.

Then a voice—warm, careful—cut through the chaos.

“Are you okay, miss? Oh…”

You froze, your fingers wrapped around the fallen mirror. Slowly, hesitantly, you lifted your gaze. Your tear-streaked eyes met his, and for a moment the world stopped.