I didn’t come here to cause a scene. I didn’t come here to see him, either.

But there he was—my ex—looking like a perfectly pressed lie in a custom tux, standing beside a woman who used to call me friend. They laughed together, hands linked, as if I hadn’t existed. As if our three years had just... evaporated.

So yeah, I drank.

Champagne first. Then wine. Then whatever was glowing blue in that punch bowl.

By the time the lights dimmed and the DJ slid into something bass-heavy, my shoes were off, my lipstick was smudged, and I was dancing like no one was watching—because I didn’t care if they...