Alex's POV.
Sometimes love isn't lost in the living—it's waiting in what we can't say.
The crowd. The music. The buzz of the bar. None of it mattered. It was like the whole damn world had blurred and she was the only thing in focus.
Felicity laughed at something Christopher said, her head tilted back, golden hair catching the lights like fire and honey. Her eyes sparkled just like they used to, like the stars had decided to live behind them. She lit up the night without even trying.
Only this time, she wasn't lighting up for me and somehow…untouched by time. Still the same girl who made everything else vanish the moment she entered a room. Still the girl who once knew the quiet, hidden corners of me—the parts I never shared with anyone.
And now, under the Oxford sky, she looked like everything I'd tried—and failed—to forget.
She looked different, yes. Stronger and beautiful.
Like life had handed her storms, and she'd learned to walk through them barefoot. I hadn't expected to see her here. Not like this. Not tonight.
I wasn't ready. Not in the casual way people say "not ready." No—my chest physically tightened. Like the wind had been punched out of me, like my body went into shock before my brain caught up.
Even after all these years, my heart recognized her before my mind did. I meant to walk away—toward the door, toward escape—but somehow, my feet betrayed me. Before I could stop myself, I was already moving. Through the crowd. Through the noise. Drawn to her like gravity had rewired itself just for her. Like I had no choice at all.
"Go talk to her," my mind whispered. "Say something. Anything." So I did.
Her smile faltered the second our eyes met. Her body tensed. I saw it in the subtle way she leaned into Christopher. He noticed, too.
His hand slipped around her waist. Casual—but possessive. A silent warning.
I don't know why that hit so hard. Maybe because I used to imagine holding her like that—back when things were simpler. Before I destroyed everything.
She laughed again, tossing her head back at something he whispered. And I swear my ribs cracked.
His arm stayed around her like she belonged there. Like I never existed. Like I hadn't once dreamed of being the boy who made her laugh like that.
I stepped forward, stopping just a foot away from her.
"Can we talk?" I asked, my voice low—rough with everything I hadn't said in years.
Her new prince charming, Christopher arched a brow. "She's a bit busy."
I didn't answer. I didn't have to, because Felicity did. Her tone was sharp. "Christopher."
That one word? It was all I needed to breathe again. He backed off—barely—but the way he kept his arm around her made it clear: he didn't trust me. He didn't like me. And he definitely didn't want her anywhere near me.
He looked smug. Possessive. And I hated that it worked.
"I'm just being protective," he muttered. "You're mine now, remember?"
My fists clenched. My heart slammed against my ribs. But I didn't take my eyes off her. This wasn't about him. It never was.
"I just need a minute," I said quietly—only to her.
Felicity hesitated. For a heartbeat, I wasn't sure if she'd come.
But then… she stepped out of his arms.
Without a word, she followed me—through the crowd, down the winding garden path, until the lights behind us dimmed and only the soft rustle of leaves filled the silence.
My heart is hammering. I stopped. I turned to face her. And finally…after all this time…I let myself look at her.
"I didn't know it was you," I said. "Not at first. But now… I do. And I'm sorry."
Her throat bobbed. "Sorry for what?"
"For disappearing. For pushing you away. For being a complete coward when I should've just been honest." I exhaled. "Back then… my world was falling apart. And you—" I paused. "You were the only thing that made sense. And I still ruined it."
"You called me a joke, Alex." Her voice cracked. "A charity case."
The words hit harder than I expected. I swallowed, my voice quiet. "I didn't mean it. I said it to hurt you… before you could hurt me."
Silence.
She laughed—bitter, sharp. "You don't get to rewrite history now."
"I know," I said. "I don't expect forgiveness. I just… I never stopped thinking about you."
She stared at me, eyes unreadable. And then she turned.
Walked away—back into the light, the music… and his arms.
Leaving me there with every word I should've said a long time ago.
Except—none of that actually happened. It was just my imagination, running wild again, playing tricks and feeding me the version I wanted, not the one I had.
I was still standing here. Still frozen like a damn statue. Still watching her laugh like the world hadn't once burned between us. Watching him touch her like she belonged with him. Watching her smile like I never existed.
I didn't move. I didn't speak. Because I knew the second I did… she'd look at me the way she did back then.
Like I broke something in her that could never be put back together.
And I couldn't survive that look again. So I just stood there. Watching her… for a little longer.
Pretending I didn't feel like I was falling apart all over again.
What I wanted to say? I wanted to tell her the truth. The apology I owed her for years.
That I disappeared not just because of the headlines…
But because I couldn't stand her seeing me like that—exposed, ashamed, ruined.
That I changed my name not only to escape the scandal—
But to run from the one person who saw me the most clearly.
Because nothing hurt more than knowing I hurt her.
And maybe… maybe she'd look at me like she used to.
Like I still meant something. Like I could still be worth forgiving.
But that was the lie I told myself to feel brave. Because in real life? She was ten feet away. Leaning into someone else. Laughing like she meant it. Glowing like she'd rebuilt herself without me in the picture.
And I knew—deep down—if I walked up to her now…She wouldn't see a changed man.
She'd see the boy who humiliated her.
Who cut her out.
Who made her feel like she was never enough.
So I didn't walk toward her. Didn't say a damn word. I let the fantasy fade with the music.
And just watched her a little longer…Until my heart remembered how to pretend, too.
Some people move on.
Some people move forward. And some of us? We just stand still—watching the one we lost, trying to breathe. Maybe one day I'll tell her the truth. But tonight? I just needed to remember what it felt like to still love her… even from ten feet away.