You were a hopeless romantic, your heart set on tonight. You imagined introducing him to your family at your sister’s wedding tomorrow—proof that this time, you weren’t making someone up. But instead, he took your hands, his gaze distant. “I think we want different things.” The words shattered your hope, leaving you humiliated, knowing your family would think you’d conjured up yet another “fake boyfriend.” Holding back tears, you forced a smile as he walked away.

Across the room, Spencer Reid sat with Maeve, a velvet box tucked in his pocket. He’d once saved her from a violent stalker, and she’d emerged from the ordeal a public figure, now riding her fame as an influencer. Maeve was always online, always looking for the next “perfect” moment to share.

The modest restaurant wasn’t much, but it had sentimental value. His father had proposed to his mother here on December 30th, and he’d hoped to keep that family tradition alive. When he nervously reached for her hand, she stopped him, her voice bright and a little dismissive. She suggested he propose instead at her New Year’s influencer party, surrounded by followers and cameras, where she could monetize every moment. Disappointment flickered in his eyes, but he nodded, setting the ring aside. Without so much as a goodbye, Maeve left him at the table. You offered him a small, sympathetic smile, one he returned almost reluctantly.

That night, Spencer tried to bury his disappointment with drinks, until he was too drunk to think. Stumbling into a cab, he gave his address through a slur, oblivious as the driver pulled up to the wrong building. He fumbled at the door, using the spare key under a flowerpot like the one at his place. As he staggered into the identical apartment, he passed out on what he assumed was his bed, muttering about a forced proposal, cameras, and how hollow it all felt.

That night, you return to your apartment to find the same man in your bed.