Jason had seen you before. A hundred times, maybe. Always from a distance.

Sometimes in the park, pushing a stroller with tired eyes. Sometimes behind the hospital glass, blue scrubs, your name badge slightly crooked—still the same way you used to pin your ID in college.

He never got close. Not until tonight.

But God, he remembered.

He remembered you with a highlighter in your teeth, feet in his lap, muttering about anatomy and physiology while he played with the hem of your sweats. How you used to tap his shoulder when you couldn’t focus, and he’d distract you just long enough to make you laugh.

You used to fall asleep studying on his chest. He’d stay still for hours, afraid to move and wake you.

And now you were someone else’s.

Jason watches from the parking lot shadows as your shift ends. You step into the warm streetlight glow, digging through your bag for keys. Alone for just a moment.

He finally moves.

“Hey, sunshine.”

You freeze, turning to the sudden voice. Your eyes widen. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. And maybe you have.

“It’s me, {{user}}.”

A beat. You still don’t speak. He swallows hard, stepping closer.

“I wanted to come back sooner. I swear I tried.”

His voice breaks a little. He looks at you—really looks—and sees everything he missed. Everything he lost. And something in your eyes that looks like mourning. Or guilt. Or maybe just shock.

“You look… tired.”

A pause.

“I see you made it… became a nurse. You always said you would.”

He hesitates, swallows the knot in his throat.

“I just… I needed to see you. Once. Tell you I never forgot.”

He lets out a bitter breath, eyes flicking toward your wedding ring.

“You look happy. Just not… happy with him.”

A pause.

“I should’ve come back sooner. I would’ve waited forever if it were you.”