We end up near one of the long tables, plates balanced in our hands, picking at pastries that are probably too beautiful to eat. The air smells like coffee and citrus, and somewhere behind us someone laughs loudly in a way that feels familiar even if I don't recognize the voice yet.

"So," Maya says, biting into something flaky and sugary, "tell me everything. What's next for you?"

"Work," I say easily. "Always work. I have two events lined up after this. One in New York, one in Chicago."

She smiles, impressed. "See? Your life is cool."

"It's organized," I correct. "There's a difference."

She laughs. "Mine involves finger paint and emotional meltdowns."

I grin. "From the kids or from you?"

"Both," she says without hesitation. "Kindergarten is... a journey."

It fits her perfectly. Maya, with her endless patience and soft chaos, her ability to turn even the worst situations into something gentle. Kids adore her. Adults usually do too.

"My life is not nearly as glamorous as yours," she continues. "But I love it. They tell me everything. No filter. One of them cried yesterday because his sandwich was 'too square.'"

"That's devastating," I deadpan.

"I know."

We clink our glasses together, smiling.

As more guests arrive, the space fills quickly. Faces begin to look familiar—not because I've seen them recently, but because memory has a way of resurfacing when you least expect it.

Maya nudges me. "Oh my God. Is that Jack?"

I squint across the room.

Blonde. Tall. Broad shoulders. Same effortless smile that used to make half the school swoon.

"That's definitely Jack," I say. "Still handsome. Still looks like he's thinking very hard about nothing."

Maya snorts. "Remember when he thought Spain was in South America?"

"He played football," I remind her. "We forgave him a lot."

Nearby, a woman with a soft glow and a very visible baby bump laughs as someone hugs her.

"Wait," Maya whispers. "Is that Lily?"

My eyes widen. "Saint Lily?"

"Saint Lily," she confirms. "Patron saint of judging everyone."

"And she's pregnant?" I whisper back. "Unmarried?"

We stare, stunned.

"Who do you think the father is?" Maya asks immediately.

"I don't know, but I feel like God is very confused right now."

She laughs into her napkin.

"Okay, look," Maya says, pointing discreetly. "Tyler."

I glance over.

He looks... different. Stylish. Relaxed. Confident in a way he never used to be.

"Do you think he's—" Maya starts.

"Yes," I say immediately.

"But he's still pretending," she adds.

"Absolutely."

She leans closer. "Remember that party?"

I grin. "Seven minutes in heaven."

"With Marcus."

"And nobody ever talked about it."

"We talked about it."

"Constantly."

We dissolve into quiet laughter like we're sixteen again.

"And that," Maya says suddenly, eyes wide, "is Vanessa."

I blink.

The woman walking toward us is calm. Composed. Dressed simply. A toddler on her hip, another clinging to her leg, and someone mentions twins and a baby like it's the weather.

"That is not the Vanessa who used to rule the cheer squad," I say.

"She has three kids," Maya whispers, awed. "Three."

"Life really said character development," I murmur.

We stand there, watching familiar faces move through unfamiliar lives, the years folding in on themselves in strange, unexpected ways.

It feels like opening a yearbook and realizing none of the captions came true.

Maya sighs softly. "It's weird, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I say. "But kind of comforting."

She smiles at me. "You're exactly the same."

I smile back, easy and certain. "So are you."

And in that moment—surrounded by past versions of people, present realities unfolding—I believe it completely.

Sophia appears beside us so quietly that for a second I think she's just another memory stepping into place.

She slips into the space between Maya and me like she belongs there—because she does—and crosses her arms, lips curved in something knowingly amused.

"So," she says lightly, "you're already judging people?"

Maya gasps, hand flying to her chest in mock offense. "We? No. Never."

She straightens, solemn. "We are people of God."

I snort before I can stop myself.

Sophia raises an eyebrow and looks at me.

"We're not judging," I say, already rolling my eyes. "We're just—"

"Predicting," Maya cuts in smoothly. "We're predicting how their lives turned out."

Sophia hums, considering this. "That still sounds like judging."

"Semantics," Maya says cheerfully.

Sophia leans in a little, lowering her voice. "By the way... I know who the father is."

Both of us freeze.

My head snaps toward her. "Who."

Maya mirrors me. "Who."

Sophia smiles. Slowly. Dangerously.

"It's a secret."

"Oh, absolutely not," Maya says immediately. "You can't just—"

Sophia steps back, already retreating, laughing. "I'll tell you later."

She pauses, tilting her head. "But you're going to love it."

She leaves us standing there, staring after her like she's just dropped a cliffhanger into our lives.

"I hate her," Maya mutters. "I love her, but I hate her."

I laugh, shaking my head.

Sophia turns back one last time, her expression softening as her gaze lands on me. "Oh—and Maddie?"

"Yeah?"

"I think it's okay," she says gently. "You know. That situation."

It takes me half a second to catch up.

"Oh," I say. "That."

She nods. "I mean... he was your friend too. It makes sense he's here."

Maya squints. "Wait. You're talking about him?"

Sophia sighs. "Yes. Henry really wanted him to come."

"And you didn't," Maya says flatly.

Sophia shrugs. "I didn't not want him to come. I just... didn't want him to come."

I laugh. "Sure. I know you like him too."

She smiles sheepishly. "Maybe a little."

"It's fine," I say easily. "We ended on good terms. He's still a good guy."

Maya lets out a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh. "Yeah. A great guy."

I roll my eyes. "You're dramatic."

"I'm accurate."

Before I can respond, Henry's voice carries through the room, warm and steady, calling everyone's attention. Conversations quiet. Glasses lower. People begin to gather.

Sophia squeezes my hand briefly before moving away to stand beside him.

Henry smiles out at the room. "Thank you all for being here," he begins, and the villa settles into a soft, attentive hush.

I lean back slightly, listening, surrounded by old friends, old stories, and a weekend carefully laid out ahead of us.

Henry is still talking—something warm about love and timing and how grateful he is—but Maya leans closer to me, her voice low and precise.

"You know," she says casually, eyes still forward, "you don't need to put on a good façade just for Dylan."

I don't look at her.

"I'm not," I say. "He's a good guy."

Maya turns slowly, staring at me like I've just said something deeply offensive.

"Yeah," she says flatly. "Of course he is. That's why you broke up, right?"

I sigh. "I know you don't like him, but I'm seriously fine. We're fine. I'm fine with him being here."

"Sure," she says. "That's why you didn't talk to him for three months."

"We broke up," I say. "That's kind of how that works."

"He was telling people he couldn't live without you."

I finally look at her. "Maya."

She doesn't flinch. "You seriously need to stop pretending he's this amazing guy when he's not. If he were, you'd still be with him."

I tighten my grip on my glass. "For your information, I could be with a lot of amazing guys. He was a good guy—just not the guy for me."

She exhales sharply. "And that's exactly what makes him the bad guy."

I shake my head. "You're erasing a lot of context."

"No," she says. "You are. And I won't let you forget what he did to you."

"It's forgotten," I say. "It's fine."

"It will never be fine for me," Maya replies. "And I'll remind you every time you start rewriting it."

Before I can respond, Sophia appears again, leaning in carefully while Henry continues talking like none of this is happening.

"What are we talking about?" she whispers. "I thought you two ended things nicely."

Maya doesn't hesitate. "Nicely, as in she found out he was cheating."

"He was not cheating," I say immediately.

Sophia's eyes widen. She looks at Maya, then back at me. "What a fucking bastard."

"Exactly," Maya says.

"I did not find out he was cheating," I repeat. "That's not why we broke up."

Maya tilts her head. "It was a very good reason to think he was cheating."

"That doesn't make it true."

"If it wasn't physical, it was emotional," she says calmly. "And that's already cheating."

"You're taking this too seriously," I say. "We broke up fine. We're one of those rare couples that just... end things and it's okay."

Maya stares at me. "That does not exist."

I raise an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"If it exists," she continues, "it's because one: they're still in love, or two: one of them doesn't actually know why it ended and is lying to themselves."

I roll my eyes. "Thank you so much for being my friend."

She smiles sweetly. "Anytime."

Sophia frowns. "Wait. He cheated on you? Because if I'd known that—"

"He didn't," I cut in. "Maya just has a tendency to stalk people and believe her own conspiracy theories."

"Wow," Maya mutters. "Rude but accurate."

Sophia hesitates. "Well... if I'd known, I wouldn't have invited him and his... plus one."

My stomach drops.

Maya's head snaps toward her. "Wait. What?"

"He has a plus one?" Maya repeats.

I blink. "That doesn't prove anything."

"Who is the plus one?" Maya demands.

Sophia shrugs. "I don't know. He asked Henry, not me. Henry said yes."

Maya turns to me slowly. "I knew it."

"This does not mean he cheated," I say. "It just means he's... moved on."

"Moved on?" she says. "You dated for eight years."

"We broke up months ago."

"Three months."

"Four. Maybe five."

Maya just looks at me.

"You are absolutely softening the timeline," she says. "He's bringing a plus one to a wedding full of people who know you. That's not neutral."

"That's not my business," I reply firmly. "I'm happy for him."

The words sound right. Practiced. Polished.

Maya watches me for a long second, then sighs. "You're exhausting."

I smile faintly. "And yet, very put together."

Henry's speech ends. Applause fills the room.

I clap along, heart steady, posture relaxed.

Everything is fine.

I am fine.

And I absolutely do not care who Dylan is bringing with him.