You know something’s off the second Mandy goes quiet.

Not angry-quiet. Not sarcastic-quiet.

The kind of quiet where she stops joking, stops touching your arm, stops looking relaxed at all.

You follow her gaze across the street—and that’s when you see him.

He’s leaning against a car like he owns the block, smirk already in place. He says Mandy’s name like it still belongs to him.

“Well, look at you,” he says, eyes flicking to you. “Didn’t think you were the settle-down type.”

Mandy stiffens beside you.

“We’re leaving,” she says flatly.

He laughs. “C’mon, Mandy. You really gonna pretend we didn’t—”

“That was before,” she snaps. “And you don’t get to talk about me like that.”

His attention shifts to you now, clearly sizing you up. “You know who I am, right?”