I do, and I see her crying too.
“Wonderful memories don’t cancel the bad ones, honey,” she says, her hand settling against my cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to cost you who you are. You don’t pay for love.”
I can’t breathe. The room feels too small, too loud, too sharp.
I stand too quickly and leave without another word. I can’t stay in it. Can’t sit in it. Can’t hear any more. I grab my gear and go.
My vision blurs at the edges. The hallway feels too narrow, the air too thin. I move fast because stopping means feeling everything she just said.
Outside, I reach my bike, and Ree is already there, leaning against it like she’s been waiting longer than she admits.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly. “I stopped in to see Marge before I left. She said she saw you.”
I look at her, and for the first time, I don’t lie.
“No.”
The word feels heavy leaving my mouth. My throat tightens, and a strange relief washes through me, sharp and fragile.
Something in her expression shifts instantly.
“Good,” she says.
I blink. “Huh?”
“It means you’re finally telling the truth,” she replies, her voice steady. “We need to talk, Eli. About how we get you out.”
I nod mechanically. “I can’t right now. I have to go.” I leave her there in the middle of the car park, watching me go.
* * *
I get home, and Adrian is in a good mood. I hear laughing, and as I turn the corner, I see him talking animatedly on the phone, looking like nothing in the world weighs on him.
I stand in the doorway and watch him.
He leans casually against the kitchen counter, relaxed, effortless. And for a moment, my mind betrays me, painting a version of him that never breaks, never changes. A future stretched out in slow suffocation.
My stomach drops. The sound of his laughter curls around me like a warning, familiar enough to make my skin prickle.
Five years. Ten. Twenty.
Walking on eggshells forever. Explaining bruises. Inventing excuses. Apologizing for taking up space in my own life. The thought lands like ice in my veins.
My breath stutters. A cold sweat breaks across my skin, and my hands tighten around the strap of my bag. The future feels suffocating, a tunnel with no exit.
Nothing is changing.
Nothing ever will.
And Adrian will never see himself as the problem.
That’s the truth I can’t unsee now. And if I stay, there is only one direction this leads. One ending waiting at the end of it all.
Me.
Dead.
* * *
