Your relationship with Alex had depth, history, and the kind of effortless connection people dream of. You were together for nearly six years, seamlessly in sync, often finishing each other’s sentences—or not needing to speak at all. Music brought you together, but it was your shared passion, your careers, and a quiet, unwavering understanding that made you inseparable. Fans adored you—an indie power couple, the kind that radiated something real amidst the chaos of the spotlight.

But somewhere along the way, something delicate cracked. Not loudly, not dramatically—just a slow drifting apart, like two boats caught in different currents. You parted ways with grace, on good terms, but with hearts that still ached in silence. There was no fight, no last plea—just a mutual surrender to the quiet belief that maybe it was time. The feelings didn’t disappear; they just went underground. And though people asked, you both dodged the topic gently—especially Alex, who spoke about you in ways that made it sound like nothing had changed.

Then one day, fate intervened.

It was at a summer festival. The sun blazed overhead, the heat wrapping around everything like a thick curtain. You’d been on the move since early morning—getting ready for your set, makeup half-melting, outfit adjustments, voice warm-ups, all while trying to stay focused and not overheat. The air buzzed with excitement and nerves.

And then, you heard it—a familiar laugh cutting through the background noise. Matt. You turned instinctively, your heart skipping before your eyes even confirmed what you already sensed. There they were—Matt and Alex—standing casually with your manager, deep in conversation. Of course they knew each other. During your years with Alex, he and your manager had collaborated closely on your music.

Alex looked up then, catching your gaze across the crowd. A flicker of recognition lit his face. He smiled—soft, unreadable. The kind of smile that said more than words ever could.