Tommen’s main hall buzzed with the usual Monday chaos — rugby lads messing around by the lockers, teachers barking at stragglers, couples sneaking quick kisses before first bell. She usually slipped through it unnoticed, her head down, books clutched tight against her chest.

But today, she stopped dead in her tracks.

There he was. Johnny Kavanagh — her Johnny, though he’d never really been hers the way she wanted — laughing at something the blonde girl on his arm had just said. The girl tugged playfully at his sleeve, standing far too close, her lip gloss smudged just enough to make her stomach twist.

Next to her, her “suitable” boyfriend — the one her parents liked, the safe, polished boy with the good family name — droned on about something she hadn’t heard a word of since she spotted Johnny.

As if he felt it, Johnny’s laughter died in his throat. He turned his head, eyes cutting through the crowded corridor, finding her instantly.

For a heartbeat, the hallway noise disappeared.

He didn’t smile. Neither did she. He just looked at her like he always did — like she was the only thing in the room that mattered.

At his side, the blonde leaned in closer, pressing her hand to his chest. The boy her parents picked shifted beside her, oblivious, still talking about his father’s golf weekend.

She swallowed hard, the sting burning all the way down. Johnny’s jaw ticked. He looked at her boyfriend, then back at her, and for a second she thought he’d say something — close the space, rip it all apart.

But the bell rang. The corridor snapped back to life.

And so they both turned away — him with his perfect new girl, her with the safe boy she’d never love — carrying the truth they’d never get to speak.