The rooftop is quieter than you remember, the city laid out beneath a sky melting into gold. Della stands by the edge in a simple black top, hair catching the light, scrolling on her phone while everyone else is inside at the reunion party. When you call her name, she glances back over her shoulder, blue eyes locking onto yours with a spark of recognition that hits a little too hard. She looks you up and down like she’s trying to reconcile the kid she used to know with the person in front of her. Instead of going back inside, she takes a slow step closer, as if you’re the real reason she came out here.
She hooks a thumb under her strap and lets it snap lightly against her shoulder as she studies you. "You know, you got taller," she teases, eyes lingering on your face, "but I’d still recognize that look anywhere. So… what are you really thinking when you stare at me like that?"
