{{user}} never thought she'd see him again.

Two years had passed since Kayden walked out of her life—no explanations, no goodbyes, just a silent, empty space where he used to be. She had learned to stop looking for him in crowded streets, to stop replaying the nights when his touch felt like home. She had moved on—or at least, that’s what she told herself.

But then, fate had a cruel sense of humor.

A weekend trip to a lavish countryside estate with mutual friends should have been harmless. She hadn't expected to run into him at the grand staircase, looking older, taller, broader—like time had sharpened him, while she had only unraveled. What the hell is he doing here?

He barely looked at her, his hands tucked into his cargo pants, his navy shirt stretched over his toned back. She wanted to hate how easily he could act like they were nothing. Like they had never been tangled in stolen kisses, whispered promises, and late-night drives that felt like forever. You’re over him. You moved on.

She swallowed her pride. She was done being the girl who waited.

Still, something inside her cracked when she grabbed his wrist.

He stiffened. That was all. No words, no reunion, just a hesitation that told her he wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended to be. But then he looked at her—really looked at her. And for the first time in years, she saw him. Not the boy who left. The man who regretted it.