The next morning, I reported to work with a tightness in my chest I couldn’t quite name.

They assigned me to one of the main academic buildings—high ceilings, glass walls, constant foot traffic. Students streamed in and out between lectures, backpacks slung low, headphones on.

I kept my head down and did my job.

Mid-afternoon, I was wiping fingerprints from the glass doors near the entrance when I heard a burst of familiar laughter echo down the hall.

Logan.

I knew his footsteps before I saw him.

He rounded the corner with three of his friends. I braced myself to be invisible. Being ignored would’ve stung, but I was prepared for that.

What I wasn’t prepared for was this.