Kai stands behind me in the mirror, close enough that I swear I feel his heat. He looks the way he always does in my head—dark hair, sharp jaw, eyes burning with something that feels like hunger and accusation all at once.
My breath catches in a sob.
“You’re not here,” I whisper.
His reflection smiles. “You keep saying that,” he murmurs. “But you never sound convinced.”
I shake my head hard, hands gripping the sink. “You’re not real.”
“And yet,” he says calmly, tilting his head, “here you are. Talking to me.”
Tears blur my vision. “You’re dead. You’re gone. I put you there.”
His smile fades. “That’s the thing, Scarlett,” he says softly. “You didn’t.”
My chest aches, splitting open with old guilt and newer fear. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“You always had a choice,” he replies. “You just chose yourself.”
The words hit like a slap. “I did what I had to do to survive,” I choke.
Kai steps closer in the mirror until his face is right behind mine, his mouth near my ear. “You built a pretty cage,” he says quietly. “Does it feel safer with him watching you breathe?”
I squeeze my eyes shut again. “Stop.”
“You look tired,” he continues, relentless. “Polished. Perfect. Empty.”
“Stop,” I repeat, louder now.
“You traded me for quiet,” Kai says. “For clean lines and pretty lies.”
My reflection’s lips tremble. “I’m happy.”
He laughs softly. “No, you’re obedient.”
I sob then, a sharp, broken sound that echoes off marble. My hands come up to my face, smearing makeup, smudging the lie I worked so hard to perfect.
When I look up again, the mirror is empty.
Just me.
Alone. Shaking. Breathing too fast.
A knock sounds at the door.
“Scarlett,” Noah’s voice calls, controlled again, measured. “Are you finished?”
I stare at my reflection—ruined mascara, flushed skin, eyes red and wild.
Finished.
The word feels like a joke.
I straighten slowly, wipe my face with trembling hands, and square my shoulders.
Because whatever is breaking inside me?
It’s already too late to put it back together.
