She hadn’t meant to see it — Patrick, leaning against the lockers with that soft smile that used to be only hers, now tilted at another girl. The “nice” girl everyone says is good for him.

The hall spins. Her chest caves in.

By the time he notices her, it’s too late — she’s already at his side, tugging his sleeve with shaking hands.

“Pat… please, come with me. Please.”

He looks back at the new girl, who shrugs awkwardly, before following her down the corridor, into an empty classroom. The door clicks shut behind them.

She turns to face him — Patrick Feely, steady as ever, arms folded across his chest like he’s bracing for something he doesn’t want to hear.

“I’ll talk to them,” she blurts, the words spilling over tears. “I swear, Pat — I’ll tell my parents I don’t want him, I want you. I never wanted anyone else—”

He flinches, just barely. She hates that she sees it.

“You can’t mean that now,” he says, voice low but firm. “Not after—”

“I do. I swear— please, Pat, please—” She grabs his hand, presses it over her racing heart. “It’s always been you, you know that, don’t you? Please don’t give up on me—”

But Patrick’s jaw tightens. She knows every line of that face, and she knows what it means when he looks at her like that — like he’s letting her go for her own good.

“You already made your choice.”

The words slam into her harder than any slap. She shakes her head wildly, choking on a sob.

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that, Patrick. I didn’t want to— I had to—”

“I know,” he whispers. And he does. That’s the worst part. He knows she didn’t want this — but she didn’t fight for him either.

So when he pulls his hand away, it’s gentle. Final.

He doesn’t look back when he walks out.

The door clicks shut. She drops to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, her sobs echoing off the walls — and outside, Patrick Feely stands frozen, forehead pressed to the door, swallowing the sound of the only girl he’s ever loved, crying for him when it’s far too late.