My throat goes dry. “Space? Fromme?”
He nods once, jaw tight.
I step closer, shaking my head. “No. Liam, wait—can we talk about this? Please?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Yes, there is!” The panic rises fast, hot and sharp, until I can feel it in my fingertips. “You’re leaving. That’s not space, that’s?—”
“Millie.” He says my name like a warning, but it only makes me push harder.
“What did I do? Is this about last night? Because if it’s about what I said?—”
He laughs softly, but there’s no humor in it. “You didn’t say anything wrong. You just keep pretending nothing’s wrong.”
I blink, confused. “Then tell me what’s wrong, Liam. Please. You’re scaring me.”
He runs a hand through his hair, pacing a slow circle. We’re moving around each other, careful and tense, like two peoplein a fight neither of us wanted to start. “You don’t get it,” he mutters.
“Thenmake meget it!” My voice breaks this time. “You can’t just walk out and expect me to act like it doesn’t matter. You’re my best friend. You—you can’t just leave.”
His head snaps up at that. When his eyes meet mine, they’re full of something raw. Not anger. Something worse. “I can’t sleep under the same roof as you,” he says quietly, every word deliberate, “knowing you’re sleeping with other people when I’m in love with you.”
Everything inside me goes still.
I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. The room feels smaller suddenly, like the walls are closing in.
“Liam…” I whisper.
He looks away, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to know who it is,” he says, voice shaking slightly. “I don’t want to know how many. I just—can you at least spare me the dignity of pretending it’s nothing? You have never lied to me, Millie. The fact that you won’t tell me about this makes me think it’s not something I can actually bear hearing.”
I take a step toward him. “Please. Don’t do this. You’re tired. You don’t mean it.”
He does, though. I can see it written all over him—the heartbreak, the exhaustion, the resignation. He shoulders the duffel bag, his movements stiff.
“Liam, please. Just talk to me.”
He hesitates, and for a second, I think maybe he’ll put the bag down. Maybe we can sit, figure this out like we always do. But then he shakes his head. “I can’t.”
My chest tightens, breath coming fast now. “You’re overreacting. We’ve fought before?—”
“This isn’t a fight, Millie,” he says, cutting me off. His voice is calm again, too calm. “This is me trying to save what’s left of us before I start hating you.”
He moves to the door, hand on the knob. I can barely stand still. Every part of me wants to grab his arm, make him look at me, beg him not to go. But my feet won’t move. My throat feels like it’s closing.
“Please,” I whisper again.
He doesn’t turn. “Goodbye, Millie.”
The door opens. The cold air rushes in. And then he’s gone.
The sound of it closing echoes through the whole house.
For a long time, I just stand there, staring at the space where he was. My mind won’t catch up. Nimbus pads out from the kitchen, tail twitching, looking from me to the door as if waiting for him to come back. I sink onto the couch, hands shaking.
The silence is unbearable.
My eyes land on the coffee table, and that’s when I see it.
