The evening had started off with so much promise—the energy in the air was full of excitement, everyone gathered to celebrate the opening of Max's new bookstore branch. People were laughing, chatting, and enjoying themselves as the space buzzed with light and new beginnings. But the moment Ryan walked through the door, the atmosphere shifted, and I felt it. The tension was subtle at first, like a low hum beneath everything, but it grew louder as the night wore on.

I had heard Max mention Ryan before, but he'd always kept things vague, only giving me snippets of their past friendship that had ended abruptly. I had never asked too many questions. I figured Max would open up when he was ready, and when he didn't, I respected his silence. But now, seeing Ryan in person, standing tall with that cocky smile and confident stride, I was starting to understand why Max had been so tight-lipped.

Ryan wasn't just anyone. He was the son of the investor who had helped fund the new branch—the very reason Max had been able to expand the bookstore. I didn't know the full details of how Max's dad had gotten involved with Ryan's family, but I could see the strain between them now. It wasn't just about business; there was so much more beneath the surface.

Max had always been guarded, but this felt different. The weight of unspoken history hung in the air like a heavy fog. His posture was stiff as he shook Ryan's hand when he entered, but his eyes... his eyes told a different story. They were distant, cold, and I could see the way Max clenched his jaw when Ryan's hand lingered just a moment too long.

I stayed back for a while, watching from across the room as the two of them exchanged polite pleasantries, both doing their best to maintain a facade of cordiality. But I could feel the cracks in their interaction—the forced smiles, the strained words. There was an undercurrent of animosity between them that wasn't even being hidden anymore.

After a while, I saw Ryan approach Max again, this time pulling him aside into a quieter corner near the entrance. I pretended to be absorbed in a conversation with one of the guests, but I couldn't help overhearing snippets of their conversation. Ryan's voice was smooth, but there was a sharpness to his tone that made my stomach twist.

"You're still holding onto that, huh?" Ryan said, his voice low but pointed. "I thought you'd have gotten over it by now. You know, we're both adults now. This is about business, Max. You can't let *that* get in the way of what we could accomplish together."

Max's response was clipped, sharp. "I'm not doing this tonight, Ryan. I'm not here to fight with you."

I saw the way Max's fist tightened, the muscles in his arm rippling with tension. My chest tightened in sympathy for him. Whatever had happened between them was still raw, and Ryan's calm, almost mocking demeanor wasn't helping.

Ryan seemed to take Max's discomfort as an opportunity to push further, his tone turning even more condescending. "It's just business, Max. Maybe it's time you stop pretending like it's something more than that. You're lucky to have this opportunity. Don't ruin it."

My heart skipped a beat as I saw Max's eyes flare with anger. I could feel the heat rising between them, the tension coiling tighter with each passing second. I wanted to step in, but I knew better. This was something Max had to handle on his own.

Ryan's words continued to sting, each one landing like a slap. "You're not the same guy you used to be, Max. You're different now. You think you can just walk away from the past and everything will be fine? It doesn't work like that."

Max's nostrils flared. "I'm not you, Ryan," he said, his voice now dangerously quiet, almost a growl. "You think you can come in here and tell me how to run my life? You don't get to do that."

At that moment, I couldn't stand it any longer. I was about to step forward when I saw Ryan smirk, the kind of smirk that made my blood boil.

"Look at you," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You're so sensitive now. Maybe you should've stayed the way you were. You know, before you thought you could be something better than the rest of us."

Max's hand shot out, grabbing the front of Ryan's shirt, pulling him toward him. The tension in the room spiked instantly, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The way Max's body was coiled, like a spring ready to snap, made my heart race. I could see the anger, the frustration, the pain in his eyes, but what hurt even more was that he was trying so damn hard not to lose control in front of everyone.

"Max," I whispered, stepping closer, my voice barely audible above the hum of the crowd.

I don't know if he heard me or if the sound of my voice reached him, but suddenly, Max let go of Ryan, pushing him back. The room seemed to hold its breath as Ryan stumbled slightly, his eyes narrowing with the kind of cold fury I had only seen in Max's gaze. The words that passed between them now were unrecognizable, lost in the tense space between their bodies.

I walked up to them slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn't know what to say, how to make the situation any better. All I knew was that I needed to be there for Max, to remind him that I was on his side—no matter what happened.

"Max, come on," I said gently, my voice soft but firm. "Let's just get some air. This isn't worth it."

Ryan took a step back, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he glanced at me. "Good luck with that one," he muttered, before turning on his heel and walking away, disappearing into the crowd.

I reached for Max's hand, feeling the tremble in his fingers as he reluctantly took mine. He didn't speak as we walked toward the back of the store, and I could tell by the way he was holding himself that the encounter had rattled him more than he was willing to admit.

When we finally made it to a quiet corner, away from the party, I could feel the weight of everything that had happened settling in between us. Max leaned against the wall, his eyes closed, his breathing slow but heavy.

"I hate him," he muttered, his voice thick with bitterness.

I didn't say anything right away. I didn't need to. I just stood beside him, offering my presence, my silence. Max didn't want advice or reassurance—he just needed to process it.

Finally, he turned to me, his eyes dark with frustration. "You have no idea what he did to me, Olivia. What he—"

"I know," I said softly, cutting him off, "but you don't have to carry all of it alone. Not anymore."

He took a long, shaky breath, and for the first time since Ryan had walked in, his shoulders seemed to relax—just a little.

I squeezed his hand, silently telling him that I was here, that whatever happened, we'd face it together.

It didn't make the past go away, but it was a start.