Reynold’s POV
I pulled up to the meeting spot Bianca had chosen—an old, abandoned playground we once roamed as kids. I stepped out of my car and made my way toward the creaking swing set. As I reached it, I ran my hand along the cool, rusty chains. Memories of Miles, Bianca, and I laughing and playing flooded back. A bittersweet smile crept across my face, only to vanish as I realized we were no longer those carefree children; everything had changed.
“I’m glad you came,” Bianca’s voice came softly from behind. I turned to see her. She didn’t look well—her eyes were swollen, and her smile trembled on the edge of sorrow.
“How have you been, Reynold?” she asked, concern threading through her tone.
I stepped closer. “Forget about me, Bianca. What happened to you? Are you okay?” I pressed,
