{{user}} had just spent two full hours doing her nails. Two. Tiny flowers. Sparkles. Perfect almond shape. They were honestly a work of art.

So when she walked into the café with Holden—coffee in one hand, nails very intentionally on display—she felt so good about herself.

This was her moment.

Then Holden reached over and grabbed her right hand.

Not even on purpose. Just casually, absentmindedly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He started messing with her fingers, smiling to himself like he thought he was being cute.

She smirked and curled her fingers into a tight little fist, just to mess with him.

He laughed. “Hey—come on, let me see.”

He tried to pry them open.

And then—

Snap.

The sound was small. Sharp. Way too loud.

Everything froze.

Holden slowly looked down.

He was holding a piece of her nail. The one with the tiny white daisy.

His face went completely blank.

“Oh my God,” he said. Then quieter, panicked, “Oh my God, I didn’t mean to—{{user}}, I swear, I—”

He looked at the nail. Then at her. Then back at the nail.

Like he was about to be arrested.

{{user}} stared at her hand.

Two hours. Two. Hours.

And now it was just… gone. The daisy was dead.

She opened her mouth.

“Holden.”

“I’ll pay for a new set,” he blurted out. “I’ll Venmo you right now. I’ll learn nail art. I’ll glue it back on. I’ll—”

He was fully spiraling.

Someone at the next table leaned over and whispered, “Oh no.”