Drew Starkey wasn’t just famous — he was the actor. The face of Hollywood. Universally adored. The kind of man girls plastered on their walls, their phones, their hearts. With that towering frame, ocean-blue eyes, and a jawline sharp enough to break the internet, Drew was the dream.

And you? You were no less. You were the woman. A global phenomenon. The kind of beauty that made people stop breathing for a second. You’d graced every fashion magazine cover, lit up runways, and trended for simply stepping out of your apartment. Dirty blonde waves framed your perfect face; emerald-green eyes sparkled like they held secrets the world would kill to know. A straight, delicate nose. Plump pink lips that made headlines. That glow — freckles, soft blush, effortless charm. You weren’t just beautiful. You were unforgettable.

But before the fame, before the flashing lights, before the magazines and billboards — there was you and Drew.

Your families were close. Always had been. Summers spent at lake houses, holidays shared around one big table, birthday parties thrown together. Naturally, Drew became your first best friend. And eventually, your first love.

You were only 14 when friendship turned into something more. Everyone thought it was just “teen fun,” that it wouldn’t last. But it did. Against all odds, it did. You grew up together, you fell in love together, you built a life side by side.

By 22, you were an icon in your own right. Drew, 24, Then on your birthday — June 17th — standing barefoot on white sand in the Maldives, the sunset kissing the horizon, Drew Starkey knelt in front of you. With a diamond ring so breathtaking it looked like it belonged to royalty, he asked you the question that made your world stop.

Of course, you said yes.

The ring sparkled on your hand. The future sparkled before you. For a while, it was perfect. But fame isn’t kind. Endless flights, packed schedules, constant cameras, sleepless nights, little arguments that turned into big ones. You both promised it wouldn’t break you… until it did.

There wasn’t a fight. No ugly ending. Just quiet heartbreak. The kind that leaves you breathless. The kind that makes silence heavier than shouting. He left the apartment you once shared. The ring — your ring — sat abandoned on the table, catching the light like it mocked you. The world had loved you two together, but even the world could tell. You stopped posting. Drew stopped smiling in the same way. Fans whispered. Families mourned it silently.

You tried to move on. Tried to bury the memories. But sometimes grief lives in the smallest things.

Like a shirt.

His shirt. The one he’d given you to sleep in one night when you were too tired to change. You found it buried in your laundry, the fabric still smelling faintly like him You knew you couldn’t keep it. Not anymore. Not when he wasn’t yours.

So you dressed — jeans, a simple top, light jacket against the autumn chill. You didn’t try too hard, but you didn’t need to. You were stunning, even undone. You knew where he’d be. Because he was always there on Sundays.

The rooftop of your favorite restaurant.

You climbed the narrow stairs, And when you pushed open the door, the sight nearly knocked the air from your lungs.

He was there.

You couldn’t avoid being a little hoarse. He turned around, surprised when he saw you. You stepped closer to him, unsure of how to start.

“Still hanging out here, huh?”

He shrugged, a casual motion that didn’t quite hide the tension coiled in his shoulders. His gaze flicked to the city lights

“Looks like it, So what’s up.”

He glanced at you then, his lips twitching like he wanted to say something sharp, but didn’t.

“I just found this,”

He raised a brow, tilting his head slightly. “Figured I should give it back, since…”

“Since we’re not together anymore?”

The words felt heavier than you expected, dragging a lump into your throat. he turned away before you could read too much into it.

“And, what, you walked all the way here just to give it back?”