Rafe thought he was over you.

He told himself that every time he woke up beside Sofia, every time he kissed her, every time he forced himself to believe she was enough. She was sweet, beautiful, everything a guy like him was supposed to want. But she wasn’t you.

Still, he convinced himself that he had moved on—until tonight.

The party was loud, bodies packed into the house like it was the last night on earth. He was standing in the corner, Sofia clinging to his arm, when he saw you.

You were glowing.

Your perfect curves moved to the beat of the music, your hips swaying effortlessly as if the song was made just for you. The dim, flickering lights cast a golden hue over your skin, highlighting the arch of your back, the slope of your neck. And your smile—God, your smile—had the power to knock the breath from his lungs.

It was cruel how beautiful you looked. Cruel how easily you carried on without him, laughing with your friends, sipping your drink like he hadn’t shattered everything between you.

His grip on his cup tightened.

It wasn’t fair.

He had begged. He had apologized. He had sworn on everything that it meant nothing—that he was drunk, stupid, that he never wanted her. But you didn’t care. You didn’t scream or cry or throw things at him like he expected. You just looked at him, your expression unreadable, and said the words that haunted him.

“You went back on every promise. I hope she was worth it.”

She wasn’t.

No one was.

And standing here now, watching you, Rafe felt it like a punch to the gut.

Sofia’s voice pulled him back. “Rafe? You okay?”

He barely heard her. His eyes stayed locked on you, his stomach twisting when some guy—some nameless, unworthy bastard—stepped behind you, his hands settling on your waist.

Something dark coiled inside him.

He should’ve been the one holding you. He should’ve been the one making you laugh. He should’ve been the one you danced with, the one you went home with, the one you still loved.

But he ruined it.

And now, all he could do was watch.