The name tag on his chest held two familiar words—as if she could ever forget.
She tightened her grip on the champagne flute, rehearsing hello, but he spared her the attempt.
“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than memory. “It’s been a while.”
She smiled, heart drumming. “Yeah. It has.”
They had been high school sweethearts, inseparable—until they weren’t.
His gaze flicked to her bare ring finger. “Still single?”
She arched a brow. “Why? You looking to fix that?”
He grinned. “Maybe.”
The room hummed around them, all clinking glass and polite laughter. Years pressed close, not as distance but as a thin door she could almost push through. She opened her mouth, then closed it, unsure which life would spill out.
“So?” he asked, stepping just near enough to feel familiar.
She gave the smallest nod, a yes or a warning—she wasn’t sure which.
It was enough to start, or enough to end.
