You hadn’t planned on coming to the Valentine’s dance. The thought of watching couples spin under soft pink lights, swaying to love songs that weren’t meant for you, felt like salt in a wound. You’d resigned yourself to a quiet night at home—until your brother found you curled up on the couch, glaring at the TV.

He gave an exasperated sigh and said, “Go get dressed. I’m taking you.”

So now, here you were. A red velvet dress hugging your frame, a faint scent of perfume trailing behind you. Your brother stood beside you in a crisply pressed suit, hands stuffed into his pockets as the two of you lingered at the edge of the dance floor, both trying to pretend the night wasn’t quite as awkward as it felt.

“Hey…I see a guy by himself over there.” He murmured, nudging your arm gently.