It had been almost a year.

A year since he left without a reason. No closure. No goodbye. Just vanished, like everything between you never meant anything.

You thought you were over it.

Until tonight — when you saw him again.

William August. Still tall, still devastatingly handsome, still the one you swore you’d never let ruin you again.

But the second your eyes met, time cracked open.

You looked at him. And you asked—quiet, broken:

“Did any of it mean something to you?”

He didn’t speak.

Just stared at you like he wanted to say yes. Like he couldn’t.

You swallowed. “Because I need to know. Was it real?”

And when he finally spoke, it was barely a whisper.

“It was everything to me. That’s why I left.”