Is it over or not |T.H|

Tom was mid-scroll through his phone when Maddie slid into the seat next to him at the café, all fake smiles and too-sweet perfume.

"I thought I'd keep you company," she said, flipping her hair like they were in a shampoo commercial.

Tom blinked. "I didn't ask for company."

"Rude," she pouted, then brightened like she'd just remembered something totally innocent. "Oh! Speaking of company... saw this on someone's story last night. Isn't it funny who people hang out with when they come crawling back to town?"

She shoved her phone toward him.

He didn't want to look. He did anyway.

The photo hit like a slap.

Lexi and Haz. At their bar. Leaning in close. His hand over hers on the table. Her eyes red-rimmed but soft. Intimate. Familiar. His.

Tom's jaw clenched.

"Cute, right?" Maddie said with faux concern. "I mean, I always knew Haz had a thing for her. Guess he's finally making his move. But hey, if you're cool with it..."

He stood up so fast his chair screeched.

"I've gotta go."

Maddie called after him, "Touchy, much?"

He didn't answer. His blood was buzzing. His chest tight.

Haz. Haz knew. Haz saw her. Haz didn't tell him.

Next Day — Hyde Park, London

Haz was waiting near the fountain, tossing bits of bread to the ducks and looking disgustingly peaceful.

Tom stormed up.

"You saw her?"

Haz looked over, then back at the ducks. "Hi to you too."

"Don't play dumb. You saw Lexi."

Haz shrugged. "She's back. I said hi."

"That's not what I saw," Tom snapped. "You were holding her hand. Maddie showed me!"

Haz turned slowly. "Wow. That's what this is about? The photo Maddie showed you of us having and innocent meeting?"

Tom flinched. "She's not—"

"She's not what?" Haz cut him off. "Not into you? Not trying to stir the pot? Mate, she's been waiting for Lexi to come back just to throw you off."

Tom's hands clenched into fists. "You had no right—"

Haz stepped forward, voice sharp now. "No right? Are you seriously standing here acting like you're the victim?"

Tom's breath caught.

"You want to talk about rights?" Haz continued, heat rising in his voice. "You left her, Tom. You broke her. She came to me in pieces after what you said that night. And I waited—for you to reach out. For you to fix it. But you didn't."

Tom looked down. "I didn't know how."

"No," Haz said. "You didn't try. And then she disappeared to New York and got trapped in a relationship that nearly destroyed her, and she still didn't reach out because she thought you didn't care."

Silence.

The kind that cuts deeper than shouting ever could.

Tom swallowed hard. "She didn't tell me that."

"Of course she didn't," Haz said, voice softer now. "Because she doesn't owe you anything anymore."

Tom closed his eyes. The image of her face—older, guarded, beautiful—burned behind his eyelids.

"Was it serious?" he asked quietly.

Haz didn't answer right away. "The guy?" He exhaled. "Yeah. Serious in all the wrong ways. Controlling. Manipulative. Scary. She left him six weeks ago and came home with nothing but a suitcase and some scars no one can see."

Tom's heart twisted.

"I didn't know," he whispered.

Haz nodded. "I know you didn't. But maybe stop being mad at her... and start being mad at yourself."

Tom didn't say anything.

Because he couldn't.