Later that night, Rachel sat in her room, staring at the photo album she had pulled from the back of her closet. The pictures told the story of her life before Andrew—before everything had changed.
She traced her finger over a photo of her and Arnold, taken on the day they had confessed their love for each other. They had been so young, so full of hope.
A soft knock at the door startled her, and she quickly closed the album. Andrew stepped inside, his expression unreadable.
"What's going on, Rachel?" he asked quietly. "Why is he here?"
She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "It's complicated."
"Then simplify it for me," Andrew said, his voice tinged with frustration. "Is he the reason you've been so distant lately? Is he the reason—"
"Stop," Rachel said, her voice breaking. "I can't do this right now."
Andrew's eyes softened, but the hurt was still there. "I deserve to know the truth, Rachel. Are you still in love with him?"
Her silence was all the answer he needed.