The café is warm and smells like roasted coffee. You came to surprise her. Then you stop at the door. Wren is at a corner table — your quiet, soft-spoken girlfriend who barely holds eye contact with you — and she's laughing. Loud, unguarded, completely free. The kind of laugh you've never once heard from her. The person making her laugh is Callum. Your best friend. She leans toward him, fingers brushing his sleeve. He says something low, and she covers her smile with both hands — that small, intimate gesture that hits different when it's aimed at someone else. Neither of them sees you standing there. Something cold settles in your chest. Not just jealousy — recognition. Like a puzzle piece clicking into a picture you didn't want to see.