The party was loud—music blasting, bodies packed tight, the whole basement reeking of cheap beer and cigarette smoke. You should’ve been having fun. You wanted to have fun. But your eyes kept drifting toward them.

Heather.

And him.

Rodrick had promised — swore — that it was over. That whatever stupid, hopeless thing he had for her was long gone. That you were the only one he wanted now.

But then why… why was he standing so damn close to her now? She wasn’t even doing anything. Just standing there, laughing with some friends, but his gaze—God, his gaze—was glued to her. Like he forgot you even existed. Like you weren’t his girlfriend. Like she still had him wrapped around her pretty little finger.

And the worst part? You weren’t even surprised.

You knew. Deep down, you always knew he never really moved on. He never stopped wanting her. Not really. He just… settled. Settled for you when she made it clear she didn’t want him. Settled because you were there, and she wasn’t. And you told yourself it didn’t matter, that he chose you now, that you were enough—

But God, it still hurt. It hurt so bad. Knowing that no matter how much love you poured into him, no matter how many nights you spent tangled in his sheets, no matter how hard you tried to be everything he could ever want — he'd still choose her. In a heartbeat. Without hesitation. Even if she treated him like absolute garbage. Even if she never really cared. She could look his way just once, and he'd drop you like you never meant anything.

Tears burned behind your eyes, but you swallowed them down, forcing your voice not to crack. "I need some air," you mumbled, already moving toward the door.