"Hey, Fiona," Mark called out, his voice cutting through the chatter of the coffee shop. She turned, her long auburn hair catching the sunlight as it spilled through the window. Her green eyes widened slightly in recognition, but she didn’t smile. "Can we talk?" he asked, stepping closer, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie.

Fiona had known Mark since high school, though they’d never been close. He was the quiet type, always lingering on the edges of group conversations. She’d rejected him a few months ago after he’d awkwardly asked her out at a mutual friend’s party. Now, standing in front of her, he looked more disheveled than usual—his dark hair unkempt, his jawline shadowed with stubble. Fiona, on the other hand, looked effortlessly put together in a fitted sweater and jeans, her cheeks flushed from the cold outside.

"Look, Mark," she began, her tone cautious, "I’m not sure what there is to say." He shifted his weight, his gaze darting to the floor before meeting hers again. "I just… I need you to understand something," he said, his voice low. Fiona glanced around, suddenly aware of the other customers nearby. "Okay," she said slowly, folding her arms. "But make it quick." He took a deep breath, his expression hardening. "You think you’re better than me, don’t you?"