Marcelo didn’t go back inside after she left.
The noise from the party kept going, laughter spilling out into the night, but it felt distant now. Like it belonged to a different version of him—the one who didn’t think twice, who acted first and figured things out later.
That version had messed things up.
And for the first time, he wasn’t sure charm or confidence could fix it.
He replayed everything she said, not just the words, but the way she said them. Calm. Certain. Done.
She hadn’t been dramatic. She hadn’t begged him to understand.
She had simply drawn a line.
And he had no idea how to cross it the right way.
Monday morning didn’t wait for anyone to figure their life out.
The hallway buzzed like always—lockers slamming, people talking too loud, the usual chaos.
But something
