Jay had tried to live in the new city, tried to distract herself with walks, work, and the unfamiliar rhythm of life. But every step, every glance at strangers laughing or holding hands, reminded her of him.
And then, one evening, she saw him.
Her heart froze before her mind could process.
Keifer. Standing across a quiet street, sunlight catching the faint lines of his face, his shoulders just as broad, just as familiar. He was with his family — laughing softly, talking with ease, a warmth in his eyes that wasn't hers.
Jay's chest tightened. She couldn't breathe. Her legs trembled, and yet she moved closer, almost unconsciously.
She watched him. Really watched him. Not the man in her memories, not the man from her dreams — the living, breathing him with a smile she hadn't seen in months.
And still… he didn't see her.
Her heart ached with a thousand unspoken words.
She wanted to run to him. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him everything: every tear, every regret, every moment she realized she had been nothing without him.
But then she saw the way he looked at his family — the gentle way he spoke, the care in his gestures. And suddenly… she couldn't.
She realized, with a sharp pang, that he had moved on in ways she couldn't touch. That his world existed without her now.
Her hands shook. She pressed them against her chest, trying to hold her racing heartbeat.
And in that moment, Jay understood something she had been running from:
Finding him wasn't enough.
Seeing him alive wasn't enough.
Because he was no longer hers in the way her heart had always imagined.
Her knees weakened, and she slid down against the wall of a nearby building, hidden from sight, tears streaming silently.
I lost him… she whispered.
All over again, I lost him.