Caleb and I stood at the front door, the crisp evening air brushing against my face. My heart thudded with a mix of excitement and nervousness. I glanced at Caleb, whose expression screamed indifference. His hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets, and his shoulders slouched like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“You could at least pretend to be excited,” I said, irritation creeping into my voice.

“Pam, not now,” Caleb muttered, rolling his eyes. “Can we not start this here? Just give me a couple of hours without the drama, okay?”

“Drama? Seriously?” I shot back, crossing my arms. “I’m not asking for much. I just want you to care about something that’s important to me.”

“There you go again,” he sighed heavily. “Look, I’m here, aren’t I? I could’ve been at the pub with the guys, but I came. That should count for something.”

“If hanging out at the pub means more to you than our little high school reunion, you might as well go,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

“School reunion? There are only three of us!” Caleb retorted. “You always twist my words. It’s like you don’t even try to understand me.”

Before I could respond, the door creaked open, revealing Connor, his face lighting up with a warm smile.

“Pam! Caleb! You made it!” he said, his voice full of genuine enthusiasm. “Sorry for the delay. You know, last-minute prep.”

“Connor!” I beamed, wrapping him in a friendly hug. I reached into my bag and pulled out the cake I’d spent the afternoon baking. “Look, I brought a cake.”

Connor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh wow! You baked this? That’s amazing, Pam!”

“Yep,” I said, feeling shy under his admiration. “It’s a special occasion.”

“Twenty years since we graduated… Crazy how time flies,” Connor said, examining the cake with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah. She baked a cake. Big deal,” Caleb interrupted with a groan. “Can we go inside now? I’m freezing out here.”

Connor chuckled, stepping aside. “Of course, come on in.” As I walked past, Connor gave me an encouraging smile, a silent but comforting acknowledgment.

Connor had always been my best friend, the kind of person who got me without needing explanations. He had a way of making me feel seen, even when others didn’t. As Caleb trudged ahead, his disinterest almost tangible, I couldn’t help but notice the contrast between the two.

Connor led us to the living room, his usual warm demeanor setting a welcoming tone. Caleb, however, made a beeline for the couch, grabbed the remote, and started flipping through channels like he was in his own living room.

“Caleb, seriously?” I said, my voice laced with frustration. “Can’t you watch that game later?”

He didn’t respond, his eyes glued to the screen. It was one of his go-to moves—pretend I wasn’t upset, and eventually, I’d let it go. Annoyingly, it often worked.

Sighing, I let my attention wander to an open cabinet in the corner of the room. Inside was a box overflowing with old items—photos, trinkets, and memories that seemed to be calling my name. On top was a photo album. My curiosity got the better of me, and I knelt to pull it out.

Flipping through the pages, I felt a rush of nostalgia. The photos captured moments from our high school days—laughing faces, awkward hairstyles, and the kind of carefree energy I hadn’t felt in years.

“Caleb, come here!” I called out, holding up a photo. “It’s us on that school trip! Remember?”

“Can you not? You’re interrupting,” Caleb said flatly, still glued to the TV.

Before I could snap back, Connor walked in carrying plates of cake. His eyes landed on the album in my hands, and his face lit up.

“You found the old photos,” he said, setting the plates down. “My mom loved taking pictures. She was convinced we’d thank her someday.”

As I flipped to another page, something caught my eye—a VHS tape sitting in the box beneath the album. Its label, scrawled in marker, read “PROM.”

“You have prom footage?” I asked, holding up the tape.

Connor hesitated. “Oh, that? It’s ancient. Probably doesn’t even work anymore.”

“Right there,” I said, pointing to the dusty player next to the box.

Connor sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I forgot that was even there…”

“Caleb, we need the TV!” I called over my shoulder.

Caleb didn’t even glance up. “Touch this TV, and I’ll snap that tape in half,” he said, his tone low and firm.

“Fine!” I huffed, turning to Connor with determination. “You have a TV in your room, right? Let’s go.”

Connor looked uneasy but nodded, leading the way. I rushed into his bedroom, clutching the VHS tape like it was a treasure chest.

“I’m telling you, Pam, this is a bad idea,” Connor said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Connor, this is the best idea I’ve had all night.”

As the tape whirred to life, the screen filled with the grainy image of Connor’s mom holding a camcorder.

“Connor, smile! It’s prom night!” she chirped from behind the camera.

Young Connor appeared on the screen, a boy trying to fit into a man’s suit. His hair was slicked back with too much gel, and his bright red tie was slightly crooked.

“Mom, stop filming,” he groaned.

“You’ll thank me when you’re older!” she shot back with a chuckle.

Then, suddenly, the camera panned to a younger version of me—sitting on the porch of my house, face buried in my hands.

“It’s Pam,” young Connor said urgently. “She’s crying.”

His mom’s voice softened. “My little prince. Go ahead.”

Connor stepped out of the car, straightening his tie as he approached. But before he could reach me, another car pulled up.

Caleb stepped out, his dad giving him a light shove.

I looked up, my tear-streaked face breaking into a radiant smile when I saw Caleb. Without hesitation, I ran to him, leaving Connor standing alone in the driveway.

The camera caught every moment—my joy, Caleb’s smug grin, and Connor’s heartbreak.

I hit pause, my hand trembling. “Connor… You were going to ask me to prom?”

He didn’t meet my eyes. “It doesn’t matter now, Pam. It never did.”

Tears streamed down my face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you were happy.”

We returned to the living room, but something inside me had shifted. As I sat next to Connor, I whispered, “You’ve always been more than a friend, haven’t you?”

“Pam, please,” he said, his voice breaking. “Let it go.”

That night, as I lay awake, I wondered what could’ve been. For the first time, I questioned everything I thought I knew about love—and what it meant to be truly seen.