Her gaze softens as she looks at him. “You’re sweet, Teddy. Just like your father was.”

The mention of his dad sends a ripple of tension through him. I feel it in the way his leg tenses against mine, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. “I like to think I learned it from him,” he says with a faint smile.

Aubrey raises her glass, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “To Gabriel,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “And to the love we shared.”

“To Gabriel,” Theo echoes, lifting his glass. Morgan and I follow suit, the weight of the moment pressing down on us like a heavy fog.

As the glasses clink together, I make sure to angle mine so the rim barely touches my lips without actually drinking. The sweet tea’s scent wafts up, too saccharine and cloying. My stomach twists, but I keep my face neutral.

Morgan is the first to break the silence, her voice light but pointed. “You know, Aubrey, I’ve been thinking a lot about the people who didn’t get to celebrate anniversaries like this. People who had their stories cut short before they had a chance.”

Aubrey’s eyes narrow slightly, but her smile doesn’t falter. “Life can be cruel like that,” she says. “You never know how much time you’ll have.”

Morgan tilts her head, studying her. “That’s true. But sometimes…cruelty isn’t random. Sometimes, it’s a choice.”

The air grows thick, the silence stretching a beat too long. Aubrey’s grip tightens around her glass. She recovers quickly, but I see the flicker of something—annoyance, maybe even caution. “That’s an interesting perspective,” she says slowly. “But I prefer to focus on the good things, the people who matter. Like Gabriel.”

Like Gabriel. As if she hadn’t taken him from us.

I swallow the bile rising in my throat, my fingers curling around my glass so tightly it’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter. “Of course,” I say, forcing the words out before Morgan can push further. “He’d want us to focus on the good. That’s what today is about, right?”

Aubrey’s expression softens again, and she nods. “Exactly. It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

But she doesn’t know what Gabriel would have wanted. Not really. Because he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want his story cut short.

And neither did the others.

The tension thrums beneath my skin, hot and electric. I can feel it in Theo too, in the way his breath is just a little too controlled, in the rigid set of his shoulders. I can feel it in Morgan, the way her fingers drum idly against her thigh, her patience thinning with every second.