The words didn’t shake.
Butsomething in her chest did.
Izzy swallowed, shifting his weight. “Becca, I—”
She held up a finger.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just a quiet stop.
“You don’t get to start with my name like nothing happened.”
Her voice stayed level. Controlled. But her eyes? Fire behind glass.
“I came out here for quiet. Not memories.”
The silence between them grew heavy, thick as smoke.
Inside, she could feel it — the pressure behind her ribs, the things she never got to say, the nights she blamed herself, the lies she replayed over and over.
But he didn’t get that version of her.
Not tonight.
Izzy drops his gaze for half a second — not long, just enough to show it hit.
The wind moves between them, carrying the bass from inside in low pulses. Her cigarette glows at the tip when she inhales, the only thing warmin the space.
“I deserve that,” he says quietly.
Becca lets out a soft, humorless breath through her nose. Not a laugh. Not even close.
“You deserve a lot of things.”
She doesn’t look at him when she says it.
Izzy runs a hand through his hair, pacing once, like he’s fighting with himself. “You think I don’t replay it? Every day? You think I don’t—”
She turns her head slowly.
That stops him more than yelling would’ve.
“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t make your guilt sound like pain we share.”
That one lands deep.
He nods, jaw tight. “I never meant for it to go that far.”
Her brows lift slightly. “That’s the problem with betrayal, Izzy. Nobody plans the explosion. You just strike the match and act surprised when everything burns.”
The cigarette trembles between her fingers now — not enough for him to see. Enough for her to feel.
Inside her chest, old nights wake up.
Crying in the dark.
