~Narrator’s~

“It was never about winning her back,” Reo says under his breath. “It’s about becoming someone I don’t hate waking up as.”

The words slip out as he leans against the cool wall of the corridor, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose. Morning light filters through the tall windows, and across the corridor floor in gold stripes. His shirt is half-tucked, sleeves already rolled. He’s showered, but his hair is still damp, and there’s something soft in his face today…something that hasn’t been there in a long, long time.

He doesn’t look like a man plotting a win.

He looks like a man letting go.

Across the hall,...