“Do you know how hard that is? To ignore you?” My breath catches. “Four years, Scar. Four fucking years I dreamed about you saying my name again.”
My eyes burn.
The living room blurs.
“And you choose now?”
A pause.
Not long.
But sharp.
Thin.
Cutting.
“You choose now, when you’re drunk and broken and pretending you forgot me?” My stomach twists violently. “You didn’t forget me.”
His voice is quieter now.
Darker.
Like he’s closer than he should be.
Like he’s leaning right against the speaker.
“Don’t lie again.”
I suck in a sharp breath.
My hands shake.
“You lied to them.” A heartbeat. “You lied about me.”
The words hit like a slap.
I flinch even though he isn’t here.
“But you didn’t lie in that voicemail.” A tremor rips through me so violently I almost drop the phone. “You still love me.”
I choke on air.
The room tilts.
He lets the silence stretch?—
Painful.
Suffocating.
Intimate.
“Say it again.” His voice drops a register. “Say it when you’re sober.” Tears burn hot down my cheeks. “Say it when your lips aren’t shaking.”
A breath—slow, deliberate.
“Say it when you’re not hiding behind Noah’s money and his big fucking house and his lies.”
