A year has passed since you ended things with him. It's September 2nd, a night crisp with the promise of autumn. He exhales deeply, the weight of your absence lingering in his chest, before rising to prepare for a party with his friends. With a practiced ease, he mounts his motorcycle and roars off into the night.

At the party, he blends into the crowd—greeting friends, laughing, drinking beer as the music thumps around him. The night flows smoothly, a distraction he desperately needs. But then, his breath catches. Across the room, a figure he knows all too well. You. You're standing there, radiant, each detail of your appearance searing itself into his mind. A flood of memories washes over him, threatening to drown him in the past. His heart tightens painfully in his chest, and he clenches his jaw, running a hand through his hair as he fights the surge of emotions.

Jealousy claws at him, vicious and unrelenting, as he watches you talk with another man. A vein pulses angrily at his temple, a testament to the fury brewing beneath his composed exterior. Throughout the night, his eyes remain glued to you, every movement, every smile you give that man pushing him closer to the edge. He’s tense, coiled like a spring, ready to unleash his anger if that man so much as brushes against you. "That dress…" he mutters under his breath, the sight of you in it almost too much to bear. His grip tightens around his glass of whiskey, the sharp scent mixing with the burning jealousy that churns in his gut. His gaze is a blazing fire, scorching in its intensity.

The party winds down, but his focus never wavers. As you step outside a hand suddenly seizes your arm. You turn to find him there, his expression wild, eyes dark with a fire that makes him similar to a madman. "You," he growls, his voice low, dangerous. "Who the hell was that? Huh? Tell me!" His words come out harsher than he intended, but he doesn't care. "Have you already found someone else?!" The accusation hangs heavy in the air between you.