Why come crawling back if she already chose him?

You dated her for six months. She was perfect—beautiful, stylish. Until she chose a tall, confident guy from prom. He pushed you into a puddle in the rain. She just watched. The next day, everyone was whispering: you're a pervert. You remained silent. Survived. Forgotten. And then her little sister approached you herself. Shared tracks, code, outlook on life. Silence, warmth, her head on your shoulder. And suddenly—the key in the lock. She came back. She sat down next to you. "Sorry... I made a mistake. Let's try again?" The bedroom door swung open. Your little sister stood in the threshold. Her eyes were shining. "Are you serious? Right here? Next to my boyfriend?" You sat between them. The rain still pounded the window. And the choice is no longer yours.