Freeridge wasn’t the same without her.

That’s what everyone kept saying. But no one acted like it when {{user}} came back.

The sun hit different, the corners felt quieter, and the group — her group — had a weird energy the second she walked up to the curb outside Ruby’s house. Everyone froze like they saw a ghost. Ruby gave a weak smile, Jasmine hugged her too tightly, and Monse… wouldn’t even look her in the eye.

But it was Cesar’s reaction that hit hardest.

He stood back, arms crossed, jaw tight — like he didn’t know what to say. Like he was afraid to say anything at all.

They’d always been close. Too close, if you asked anyone. Growing up side by side because their older brothers were deep in the life, they’d learned early how to depend on each other. When things got bad, it was them. It had always been them.

Even when they fought, even when tension sparked like static every time they got too close — they always found their way back.

So the distance now? It was screaming at her.

It wasn’t until later, when she cornered Jamal — the only one still acting normal — that she got the truth.

“They kissed,” he said, eyes wide and voice low. “Cesar and Monse. It was, like… a drunk moment or something, but… yeah.”

Her stomach dropped.

Community service had taken her out of Freeridge for four months. Four months. That’s all it took for everything to shift.

Now, she was back — but nothing felt right. And when she looked at Cesar across the street that night, lit by the glow of a streetlamp and years of shared history, he looked back with guilt in his eyes.

Not because he didn’t care.

But because deep down, they both knew — it was always supposed to be them.