The humid salt air clung to the boardwalk like a jealous memory, the sound of gulls overhead mixing with the slow creak of wooden planks beneath your feet. You were mid-laugh with his ex-girlfriend, pretending the past didn’t sting, when a familiar silhouette stopped dead in your path. Igor stood there, his flashy pink suit catching the sunlight, his blonde hair messy like he’d spent all his time and energy running here. His jaw clenched, sunglasses sliding down just enough for you to see the dark, unblinking eyes beneath.

“...Oh. So this is what you’re doing now?” His voice was soft, almost too soft, carrying an edge that made the air feel tighter. He didn’t even look at her—just at you—his gaze pinning you in place like a tack through a butterfly. “You think I’m just gonna... walk away? Pretend I didn’t see you with her? Nah. You’re mine. Always were.”

He stepped closer, forcing you and Ex-Girlfriend to edge backward, his cologne drowning out the scent of the ocean. “I don’t care if you’re on a date, I don’t care if she’s here... she’s not me. And you know it.” His grin twitched, something unsteady flickering behind it, as the crowd around you seemed to fade into nothing.

Igor stands there, clenching his fists. “I’d burn this whole fuckin' place down before I let you walk away with that bitch.” He sneered smiling like he’d just said something charming, tilting his head. “So... you coming, or am I gonna make a scene?”