New Years Eve

That’s where things got uneven.
He’d ask about my day and I’d tell him everything — until there was too much to explain. Somewhere in there, he stopped asking. It wasn’t a fight; it was just a shift. The kind that happens quietly but changes everything.

During that trip, we started building together. That’s where The Wizard and the Artist came from. I was the one who could make things happen — the “wizard.” He was the artist, the one who understood how light and color worked, how to make something beautiful. I helped him start a TikTok account and gave him social media tips. He started making interior design videos and gave me lighting advice for mine. For a while, it was fun. We were a team.

Then he arrived in Mexico City.
That same week, my world fell apart. I lost my TikTok account and my job at Epic in the same twenty-four hours. Two parts of my identity gone overnight. When I told him, he didn’t even know where I worked. It wasn’t malicious, but it said a lot. He was starting a new life, and I was losing mine.

I held on tighter than I should have. He was the only stable point I had, but the distance between us kept growing. He met new people. Went to new places. I saw it all through his posts and messages. I tried to be happy for him — and mostly, I was — but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was moving forward and I was standing still.

By December, I knew it was over.
I canceled my trip to Mexico. I stopped calling him my boyfriend. I decided to rebuild my own life instead. On January 5, he sent one last message:

“Thanks for everything. I feel like we’ve reached the end of this. I’ll always remember you.”

It was short. Final. Honest.
And that was it.

For ten months, I didn’t think about him again.
Not until November, when the story that became Special: Enrique began.