Fynn’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as he leaned slightly closer to Annabelle. The bonfire’s glow was far behind them now, and the only light came from the moon filtering through the trees. The air between them felt heavy, charged with something unspoken.
“So,” Fynn started, his tone casual but his eyes searching hers, “are you seeing anyone? Or is it just… you and your school now?” He tried to sound non-chalant, like he was just catching up, but Annabelle could hear the faintest hint of something else in his voice. Something that made her stomach twist.
Annabelle hesitated. The line her wedding ring left on her finger suddenly started scratching her, but she didn’t look down at it. Instead, she forced a small laugh, trying to brush off the question. “Why? Are you asking for yourself
