It had been almost a year since Dean and she had parted ways, and though it had taken months of struggle, he was finally beginning to move on. His life had slowly started to regain its rhythm, the sting of their breakup fading into a dull ache. That is, until the hunts slow down, take a break and he found himself back home, where memories of her lingered in every corner.

Sam, his younger brother, had practically dragged him to the birthday party. Dean knew she would be there—of course she would be, it was her birthday. Their families had always been close, practically intertwined for years. But now, those ties seemed more like chains, pulling him toward a past he was desperate to escape.

As soon as he stepped into the garden, his breath caught in his throat. There she was, standing in the soft glow of twilight, surrounded by laughter and light. She looked effortlessly beautiful, with a hint of natural makeup that only highlighted her features. Silver jewelry glinted at her neck and wrists, and her long, cascading hair—always his favorite—had been cut to a sleek, shoulder-length style.

He froze, his heart pounding in his chest. When she turned to him, her eyes locking onto his, he could barely manage to find his voice.

"Haircut," he murmured, the word slipping out before he could stop it, as if acknowledging the change in her was the only way to ground himself in this moment that felt like a dream.