𝘼𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙋𝙊𝙑:
Four months.

That's how long it had been since that night. Since the wedding, the club, the train, and the kiss. Since Chris pressed his lips against mine like it was inevitable, like we were making up for lost time. Since I went home buzzing with the thrill of seeing him again, convinced this was the start of something.

And then?

Nothing.

No DM. No text. No call. No follow-up.

It had been radio silence ever since.

I wasn't sure what I had expected. We were drunk, sure, but the way he looked at me that night... it felt like more than that. Like maybe I wasn't the only one who had spent years wondering what if?

But apparently, I was.

So, I did what any rational person would do I moved on.

Or at least, I tried to.

But now, four months later, Chris Dixon was the last thing on my mind as I walked through Camden Market, coffee in one hand, shopping bag in the other. The streets were packed, the usual mix of tourists, street performers, and locals filling the space with movement and noise. I was half-distracted, looking at a stall selling jewelry, when I took a step back—

And slammed straight into someone.

The impact knocked me off balance, and before I could catch myself, I stumbled, my coffee slipping from my grip.

"Shit—"

Two strong hands caught my arms, steadying me before I could hit the ground.

"You alright?"

That voice.

I froze.

I knew that voice.

Slowly, I looked up—

And my stomach dropped.

Chris.

Of all the people in London, of all the places, of all the moments it had to be him.

His hands were still on my arms, his brows furrowed in concern, his lips slightly parted like he was about to say something else. But the second our eyes met, his expression changed. His grip loosened, his whole body tensing as recognition hit.

"Avery?" he asked

I swallowed, my heart slamming against my ribs. "Chris."

For a second, neither of us moved. The sounds of Camden buzzed around us—people talking, music playing, the occasional shout from a stall owner—but it all felt distant, muffled compared to the deafening silence stretching between us.

Chris cleared his throat, dropping his hands from my arms. "Uh... wow. I didn't— I mean, I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Yeah, no kidding," I muttered, brushing myself off. My coffee was now splattered across the pavement, but that was the least of my worries.

Chris ran a hand through his hair, looking almost... nervous. "How've you been?"

I let out a sharp laugh, unable to stop myself. How have I been? Seriously?

"I've been great," I said, folding my arms. "You know, just living my life, working, existing. The usual. What about you? Been busy?"

His jaw tensed. "Avery..."

"Because, I mean, you must have been, right?" I cut in, my voice sickly sweet. "Must have been absolutely swamped if you didn't have time to—oh, I don't know—maybe dm me like you said you would?"

Chris sighed, looking away for a moment before meeting my eyes again. "I know."

That was all he said. I know.

I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. "You know?"

"I should've reached out," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I—I don't really have a good excuse. I just... didn't."

I stared at him, waiting for him to say something else, to explain himself, but that was it. That was all he was offering.

A vague, half assed non apology.

I swallowed down the frustration rising in my throat, forcing myself to stay calm. "Right. Okay. Well, thanks for clearing that up."

"Avery, come on—" he spoke

"No, really, it's fine," I said, taking a step back. "I get it now. That night didn't mean anything to you."

His brows knitted together, his expression shifting slightly. "That's not—"

"It's fine," I repeated, more for myself than for him. I turned away, already preparing to walk off, to get as far away from this as possible

But then he said it.

"That's not true."

I stopped in my tracks.

I turned back to him slowly, my pulse hammering in my ears. "What?"

Chris let out a breath, shaking his head. "It wasn't nothing."

For a second, I just stood there, staring at him, searching his face for any sign that he was messing with me. That this wasn't just another thing he'd say before disappearing all over again.

But there was something in his eyes something real, something that looked a hell of a lot like regret.

And for the first time in four months, I didn't know what to think.