The room was a mess of faces I didn’t care to remember. Laughter bounced off the walls like it had a purpose, but it was all just noise to me. I stood by the snack table, picking at pretzels I didn’t want, a glass of water in my other hand because booze had lost its charm somewhere along the way.

Julie’s birthday, or maybe it was a reunion—I didn’t know. I didn’t really care. I was here because I was supposed to be, but the truth was, I’d rather be anywhere else. I was about to make my exit when I felt it—someone’s eyes on me.

I turned around, and there she was. Olivia. Liv. It’s been years, but time didn’t erase her from me. She was standing there, the same, but different. Just like me. I felt something inside tighten, then loosen, like a punch you don’t see coming.

“Olivia?” I said, surprised, but more than that, something like longing clawed at my insides. She smiled, that half-smile she used to give when she was trying to act tough, and I felt like a damn fool for still caring.

“Renz. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, Julie insisted. Said I should catch up.” Catch up—what a joke. The past was a weight you could never outrun, no matter how fast you tried to live.

We stood there, sizing each other up like we were back in school, pretending we weren’t both aching for something we couldn’t quite name. She looked at me, really looked, and I could see she noticed. The shaved head, the beard, the wedding band.

“You look different,” she said, and I could tell she meant it.

“So do you,” I replied, trying to keep my voice even. “No more wild hair? And the beard... I almost didn’t recognize you.”

I shrugged. “Figured it was time for a change. You know how it is.” But she didn’t know, not really. Not how things had twisted and turned, until I was standing here, a shadow of who I used to be.

“Yeah,” she said, her eyes drifting to my glass. “And the drink... water?”

“Yeah. I quit drinking a while ago.”

“Seriously? No more weekend karaoke marathons?”

I almost laughed, but it came out wrong. “Not my thing anymore. Besides, she’s not much of a drinker.”

That word. “She.” It was like throwing a match into gasoline. The air between us lit up, tense and thick. Her eyes flickered, but she didn’t look away.

“She must be something,” Liv said, her voice too calm.

“She’s great, Liv. But... it’s different.”

“Of course it is,” she said, looking down at her drink. “We’re different people now.”

We were. But some things never really changed. I looked at her and saw every “what if” I’d ever tried to bury.

“Do you ever miss it? The way things were?” she asked, voice quiet like she didn’t really want the answer.

I clenched my jaw, staring at the floor. “Sometimes. More than I like to admit. But I try not to dwell on it.”

She bit her lip, a nervous habit I knew too well. “Do you ever regret it? Us?”

I didn’t know what to say. I shook my head because that’s what you’re supposed to do, but my eyes gave me away. “Liv, I don’t know. What’s the point of regrets? We can’t change the past.”

“No, we can’t,” she whispered, the words hanging in the air. “But that doesn’t stop me from wondering... what if?”

It was like she’d punched me in the gut. I winced, feeling everything I’d tried to forget rush back in. “Don’t do that to yourself. To us. It won’t change anything.”

“I know. It’s just hard sometimes,” she said, her voice cracking.

I tightened my grip on the glass, feeling the cold press against my palm. “I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it in a way I never thought I would. “For everything.”

“Me too,” she replied, eyes glistening. “But sorry doesn’t make it hurt any less, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

We stood there, drowning in silence, the noise of the party fading into the background like a bad dream. I wanted to say something, anything to make it better, but the words just weren’t there.

“And you? Anyone new in your life?” I asked, not really wanting to know.

“I’ve had a few, but no one steady. Just... nothing that stuck,” she said, trying to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

I nodded, feeling a pang of something like regret, but more bitter. Julie’s laugh cut through the room, reminding me this wasn’t our moment anymore.

“I should go,” I said, stepping back, because staying would just make it worse.

“It was... good to see you, Liv.”

“You too,” she whispered, and I knew she didn’t mean it, not really.

I turned and walked away, letting the crowd swallow me up. But her eyes stayed with me, burning holes in the back of my skull. I kept walking, straight out the door, into the night air that felt more like a slap than a relief.

And that’s how it goes, I guess. You think you’re done with the past, but it’s never really done with you. It sticks around, a ghost in the corners of your mind, haunting every step you take, reminding you of all the things you never said, and all the things you’ll never be able to forget.

© reddragonfly

#exforever #RenzxOlivia