Jasmine seemed to take notice of Cameron, and for a fleeting moment, Cameron thought maybe—just maybe—she would do the rational thing and turn away, keep her distance. That would be easier. That would be merciful. But instead, she started walking toward her.
Cameron felt her breath hitch, an involuntary reaction that sent a sharp pulse through her chest. Is this it? Is this fate finally weaving the right threads together? Is this Jasmine coming to accept whatever unspoken tension had once existed between them? It took everything in her to stifle the rush of excitement, the tidal wave of old delusions trying to claw their way back to the surface. She would not be desperate this time. She would not make the same mistakes.
Jasmine stopped just in front of her, her face alight with that warm, familiar smile—one that Cameron had spent months trying to forget. "Cameron! It's been forever," Jasmine greeted, her voice carrying an effortless warmth, like no time had passed at all.
Two years. Exactly two. Cameron kept her body still, calm, composed. She matched the tone, and offered a mirror of that warmth back. "Yeah. It has."
Jasmine gave a little laugh—God, that laugh—and stepped closer. "You look amazing. I love the hair."
"Thanks," Cameron said, brushing a hand through it a little too quickly. "It was getting out of control."
"You always had good hair," Jasmine said without thinking, and then smiled at her own words like they were harmless.
Cameron nearly forgot how to breathe.
This was okay. This was more than okay. It wasn't awkward or stiff or weighted with unspoken things—it was light. Natural. And something about that loosened the knot in her chest she'd been carrying all night.
She nodded toward the room behind Jasmine. "Seen a lot of familiar faces already."
"Same. It's so weird seeing everyone again, right?"
It was weird. But not for the same reasons.
Cameron took a sip of the drink she wasn't tasting, more aware of Jasmine's perfume than the cheap rum fizzing in her glass. Jasmine smelled like she always had—soft, clean, floral, like laundry and lavender and sunlight.
She was different. A little more put-together. More assured. But still her.
And then, a slight shift in Jasmine's posture caught Cameron's attention—something barely noticeable, but enough to signal that she wasn't alone. Cameron's eyes flickered to the side, and that was when she saw him.
A man.
Tall, but not intimidating. Dark hair, well-groomed but not overly styled. He had a clean, neutral look—put-together in a way that made Cameron's stomach twist. Because of course he was. He had to be.
Before she could even fully process what was happening, Jasmine turned slightly, motioning toward him. "Oh, Cameron, this is Andrew—my boyfriend."
Boyfriend.
Cameron felt the word crash into her skull, reverberating through every hollow space inside her, bouncing off the walls of her chest. She had heard it. She knew she had. But somehow, her body refused to fully register the information, as if delaying the inevitable collapse.
She managed a nod, forcing her body to function. "Andrew. Nice to meet you."
The words tasted like poison in her mouth, but her voice remained steady. She had perfected this over the years—acting unfazed, unaffected. The smoothness of her tone was second nature now, but inside, she felt something inside her splitting open, a hairline fracture widening into something vast and unbearable.
Andrew smiled, extending his hand for a quick shake. "Nice to meet you too. Jasmine's mentioned you before."
Mentioned her?
Cameron wasn't sure if that was supposed to be some kind of comfort or another twist of the knife. She couldn't tell if Jasmine had spoken of her in passing, just another old coworker, another casual acquaintance—or if she had been something more in the stories. But it didn't matter. None of it mattered because in the end, Jasmine had a boyfriend. That was the only truth that stuck.
The conversation continued for a few minutes—small talk, the usual meaningless pleasantries that Cameron could barely focus on. Her brain had been hijacked, spinning in frantic circles, trying to recalibrate. She had spent so much time convincing herself that she had moved on, that she was above the person she used to be. But now, standing here, it was like time had folded in on itself, and she was right back in that headspace, drowning in a familiar kind of devastation.
"I'm gonna grab another drink," Jasmine said suddenly. "You want anything?"
Andrew shook his head, already spotting someone across the room and waving. Jasmine turned back to Cameron. "You?"
Cameron shook her head. "I'm good."
"Okay, I'll be back," Jasmine said, touching her arm lightly before disappearing toward the kitchen.
Cameron stood in place, staring after her, body buzzing with something she couldn't name. The conversation had been... normal. Pleasant. Kind, even.
And completely meaningless.
Boyfriend.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides, hidden just out of view. She was nothing. She had spent two years reconstructing herself into someone who didn't ache at the thought of Jasmine, and yet, with one word, she had unraveled completely.
She was pathetic.
And she hated herself for it.