You didn’t mean to touch it. You really didn’t.

Maddy had left her bedroom door half open—a rare thing, considering she usually kept it locked tighter than her emotions. You only stepped in to grab your hoodie, the one you’d left on her chair after movie night. But your elbow caught the edge of her vanity, and the crash that followed made your heart stop.

On the floor lay a shattered perfume bottle. Not just any perfume bottle—the gold-glass one with the little diamond stopper.

The one she’d told you was from her grandmother.

“Maddy—” you started as she appeared in the doorway.

Her eyes darted to the shards, then to you. “Are you kidding me?”

“I—It was an accident, I swear—”

She threw her hands up. “Of course it was! Everything’s an accident with you!”

Her voice cracked with more than anger—it was hurt. You’d seen Maddy furious before, but this was different. There was something raw underneath it, something that made you step back instead of fight.

You knelt down, trying to pick up the pieces. “Let me fix it—”

“Don’t touch it!” she snapped. Then, softer, “Just… don’t.”

Silence filled the room. The faint smell of her perfume—sweet, expensive, unforgettable—lingered in the air, and it felt like it was choking you both.

You swallowed. “I didn’t know it meant that much to you.”

She crossed her arms, eyes glistening but hard. “It’s the only thing I had left from her. The only thing that wasn’t fake.”

You looked up at her, the guilt twisting in your chest. “Maddy, I’ll find another bottle. The same one, I promise.”

She shook her head, sitting down on the bed, her voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t replace it. You can’t just buy back what’s gone.”

That hurt. But you stayed quiet.

Then, after what felt like forever, she sighed. “You didn’t mean it. I know you didn’t.”