ning. I stood on a small, elevated platform, a fake smile plastered on my face while the host of "Heartbeats Reunited" pr

, he wal

ery favor I pulled, every shred of dignity I sacrificed

ld see was him. Seven years had passed since I last saw him, standing on an airport curb with tears in his eye

probably cost more than my first car, his hair was perfectly styled, and he moved with a quiet confidence that bordered on arrogance. T

over the room, cool and detached. For a terrifying second, his gaze met mine, but there was n

inked her arm with his. Chloe Davis. A social media influencer with millions of followers, a s

er voice dripping with practiced sweetness. She press

o say something, anything. He did nothing. He stood there, a blank expression on his face, allowing her to

tudent with big dreams, and I was an art student with a scholarship that felt like a winning lottery ticket. We were equals. Now, he was

called, I forced myself to speak, to smile, to pretend I was just another contestant l

ainst my ribs. Chloe was still attached to

, my voice bar

inally focusing on me. They were cold

me harder than

said, my voice tre

yance, maybe-crossed his face. "Right. The artist." He said the wor

he lounge area, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the stage,