"Ili…" Her voice barely escapes her lips, fragile as winter breath.


    He blinks, eyes calm.


    Polite.


    Distant.


    "I’m sorry," he says. "Have we met before?"


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    The words strike like frost—quiet, but merciless.


    She should’ve been ready.


    She was the one who walked away.


    But now… it feels like he left her behind.


    She grips her sleeve, steadying the ache.


    "No," she lies, forcing a smile. "I guess we haven’t."


    He nods, turning away.


    And just like that, everything they were melts into silence—


    as if it had all been a dream now fading with the snow.