A relationship could mean many things—platonic, romantic, or something harder to define. And right now, every version of it felt like it was closing in around you, piling on all at once.

“Oh, isn’t that sweet? Shannon’s having an engagement party!” your mother called from the living room, her voice lifting with delight.

You froze mid-rinse, blinking at the faucet before shaking off your hands and heading in, towel already in hand.

“Really?”

You hadn't heard anything about Ian before. But knowing Shannon—your mother’s best friend, who had a messy track record when it came to relationships—it wasn’t surprising she hadn’t said a word until now.

“Mhm! And of course, we’re invited! I’m going to find you the prettiest dress.” She stood up, already walking away to plan. You couldn’t even get a word in. Just like that, it was decided.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Weeks passed, and sure enough, you were there—dressed in something soft, elegant, and clearly expensive, standing beneath soft lighting and chandeliers that shimmered against polished floors. Ian, whoever he was, clearly spared no expense. It felt more like a wedding reception than just an engagement celebration.

Your mother had already disappeared into the crowd, catching up with old friends or fussing over details. You were left standing alone, slowly turning in place to take it all in. The atmosphere buzzed softly with string music and hushed laughter. It was dazzling, and just a little overwhelming.

You turned fully—and stilled.

A man stood directly behind you, not close enough to be invasive, but just enough to make your breath catch at the unexpected presence. Tall, composed, and quietly observing you with the calm confidence of someone who belonged here.

“It’s been a long time.”

His voice was smooth and lower than you remembered, polite in tone, but there was something familiar there—something that stirred a recognition you couldn’t quite name until you really looked at him.

You stared for a few seconds, blinking, mind trying to match the image in front of you to a version from the past.

“…Sage?”

The name left your lips in disbelief, followed by a quiet, surprised laugh. You had to look again. He’d changed so much—the awkwardness gone, his posture straight, his clothes crisp and well-fitted. His hair was neater now, his expression composed in a way that made you feel like you were standing in front of someone important. But the eyes… they were the same. Calm, gentle, just slightly distant.

He nodded once. “I’m glad you remember me.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’ve changed. A lot.”

“So have you,” he said, and his tone was sincere—no teasing, no smugness, just quiet observation.

You weren’t sure why, but the way he said it made something flutter uncomfortably in your chest. Maybe because it wasn’t said for effect, not to impress. It sounded like he meant it. And that was somehow more disarming than a bold flirtation.

“You look good.. beautiful,” he added after a pause, a bit softer this time. There was a carefulness to his voice, but even with the pause in the statement he didn’t seem that hesitant with the compliment fully meaning it