The garden was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves in the evening breeze. Fireflies flickered near the pond, their tiny lights blinking in and out of existence like fleeting thoughts.

James sat beside you on the bench, his knee bumping against yours as he talked, his voice full of life and warmth. His fingers lazily played with yours, tracing slow circles against your palm.

“I swear, S/rius is out to get me,” he said, laughing. “He nearly knocked me off my broom today, and I know it wasn’t an accident. He just grinned at me like it was the funniest thing in the world. If I end up in the hospital wing, promise me you’ll visit.”

You hummed in response, nodding slightly, just enough to make it seem like you were listening. But the truth was, you weren’t.

Your mind was elsewhere.

Your mind was on him.

Tom.

You could still see him in the garden, standing just beyond the moonlight, his expression unreadable, his sharp gaze cutting through the night. He had always been like that—silent, watching, waiting. Even when he wasn’t near, you had felt him, like some invisible thread connecting you, pulling you back no matter how hard you tried to sever it.

With James, everything was light, easy, safe.

With Tom, it had been everything else.

The tension, the fire, the way his presence consumed every part of you. He had never loved gently. No, he had loved like it was a battle, a war only the two of you understood.

You hated how much you still missed it.

James nudged you lightly, his voice softer this time. “Babe?”

You blinked, turning to him, forcing yourself back into the present. “Are you even listening?”

You swallowed, pushing the memories away, shoving them deep down where they couldn’t reach you. You gave James a smile. “Mmm… sure.”

But it wasn’t true.

Because even as you sat there in the garden, bathed in moonlight, holding hands with someone who loved you in the way you should want to be loved…

A part of you was still standing in the shadows, waiting for Tom to step back into the light.