Lucky was so over it.

She was absolutely, undeniably, totally over it. She didn't care, not one bit. Nope. And she definitely hadn't been obsessively checking social media on a burner account late at night. Or felt that sharp, gut-wrenching pang when she saw her ex laughing at a party, her arm casually draped around another girl's shoulders in the photos.

No. She was fine.

Even if the faint scent of her ex's perfume still lingered in the air sometimes, bringing with it an unexpected wave of emotion she couldn't quite shake. Even if every now and then, she'd see a flash of color across the street—just the right shade of hair—and feel something stupid and hopeful stir in her chest like she might actually still want to believe in it.

Even if she was still...

The subway screeched to a halt with a jarring lurch, the sudden motion pulling Lucky back to reality. The clatter of the train doors opening snapped her out of her thoughts as the crowd surged forward, bodies jostling and pressing against one another, the usual heat and smell of sweat mingling with the musty scent of old subway tracks. She instinctively followed the flow, letting herself be swallowed into the dense, suffocating crowd that crowded the car.

It was standing room only, the air thick and stale, buzzing with the low murmur of half-hearted conversations and the occasional cough. Lucky barely noticed her proximity to the person next to her until the train jolted forward again, the wheels grinding along the tracks, sending her shoulder colliding into theirs.

"Shit." she muttered, and as she turned to apologize, her words caught in her throat.

There, standing right next to her, was her ex. Her breath caught—just a moment too long before she could force herself to react.

"You've been busy." Lucky said, the words slipping out sharper than she intended, thick with bitterness. It sounded harsh—it was harsh. And maybe a little creepy, but she couldn't stop herself from speaking.

She shifted, rolling her shoulders back in an attempt to appear unaffected, standing taller, like she wasn't completely caught off guard. Like she wasn't emotionally unraveling inside.

"I'm doing great, by the way." She offered the words too quickly, almost trying to convince herself more than her ex.

The silence stretched between them, the kind of silence that felt too loud, too pregnant with all the unspoken things they could never say. Lucky's eyes darted around the subway car, the neon ads flashing above, desperate to find something—anything—to latch onto.

"I'm moving soon," she blurted out, her voice rising just a little too high.

She forced herself to look at the nearest ad, hoping for inspiration. Her eyes locked onto an advertisement for a hockey game—just the kind of offhand, random detail she could grab onto. "To Canada," she added quickly, as if it was an answer she had all along.

Her voice faltered as she swallowed hard. "Yeah." She cleared her throat, the words coming out strained. "I'm like, totally over it."

The train rumbled on, the motion barely enough to shake the tension between them, but it didn't change the fact that Lucky felt like she was falling apart at the edges.