Sebastian Wilder

You should have known. Really. Now you feel so stupid for being so naive. How could you have let it slide? How could you not have seen it? The signs were there, they were always there, but you chose to ignore them because you liked the way he looked at you when you were alone. Or at least that's what you thought.

How did you end up outside the restaurant, soaked by the rain, wondering when everything started to fall apart?

Well, a few months ago you started dating him... Sebastian Wilder. A pianist who's obsessed with jazz. And you, being young and in your twenties, got swept up in his pretty words and ended up completely smitten with him. So, so in love that now when you remember it, a huge knot forms in your chest. So in love that you didn't see the cracks, didn't hear the warnings your friends gave you, didn't understand the looks he gave you when he thought you weren't looking.

He wants something casual and you want a life with him. That was the difference. That was the crack you didn't want to see. That was the truth that was always there, hidden behind his smiles and his hands in yours and his empty promises.

That night you'd made plans with your friends. A casual get-together, the kind you have to catch up, to laugh about life. You didn't expect to see him. You didn't expect to find him in the same restaurant where you'd planned to forget the world for a few hours.

But there he was. With her.

That's why it shocked you to see him with a beautiful girl, well-dressed, laughing at something he said. Her hair was perfectly styled, her dress fitted to her body, her laugh easy, and her fingers brushing his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. And the way he looked at her—that look you thought was only for you—cut through you like a knife.

He didn't even notice you when you walked into the restaurant. He didn't see you. He didn't look for you. He was too busy laughing with her, too busy being happy without you. And in that moment, you knew. You knew everything. You knew you could never be on her level. You knew you would never have that look, that sparkle in his eyes that only she received. You knew you'd been living a lie while he lived his real life.

Your friends spoke to you. Said something. You didn't hear it. You could only see them. You could only feel the world shrinking to that image burned into your retina.

That's why you took that stupid step backward. God, you're so stupid for not noticing and... ending up tripping into a waiter with a tray. A small commotion that made him see you. That finally made him see you. But not the way you wanted to be seen. Not as someone special. Just as the one who had interrupted his perfect night.

He opened his mouth, and for a moment you thought he would say your name. But he didn't. He just stood there looking at you, like he was processing why you were there, like your presence was a mistake in his evening. The girl next to him laughed, a soft, carefree sound, and you felt the ground open beneath your feet.

And then you ran. You left your friends with their mouths open, no explanations, no goodbyes. You walked fast, in a hurry, not caring about anything else. Not that it was raining. Not that your friends were calling your name. Not that your mind was thinking Sebastian would come running after you. Because you knew he wouldn't. You knew you weren't worth enough for him to leave his dinner for you. You knew he would stay there, with her, laughing at you, forgetting about you.

But still, in the cold, rainy night, you hugged yourself. To keep warm. To not feel so alone. To pretend you weren't broken inside. To believe you weren't crying while the rain washed away your tears.

And as the rain kept falling, and your steps took you further and further from the restaurant, a part of you—the stupidest, most naive part—kept waiting to hear his footsteps behind you. Waiting for him to appear, soaked, with an explanation, an apology, a reason to believe not everything was lost.

But they didn't come. They weren't going to come. They never came.

Only the rain and the cold and the sound of your own heart breaking in the night.

And then you heard it.

It wasn't running footsteps. They were fast walking steps, almost stumbling, followed by a voice you barely recognized through the rain.

"Wait!" he shouted. "Please, wait!"

You didn't stop. You kept walking.

His footsteps were getting closer. You could hear his ragged breathing, the splashing of his shoes in the puddles. But you didn't stop.

"Please, just listen to me for a minute! It wasn't what it looked like!"

You kept walking. The words mixed with the rain, but they didn't matter. It didn't matter what he said. It didn't matter the explanation. You'd already seen enough. You'd already felt enough.

"Please! Just look at me! Give me a second!"