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Arlo takes a step forward, hands fisting.

“You asked her to choose,” Kylian presses, cutting him off again. “Over and over again, like her life is something you can simplify into a single decision that benefits you.”

“Because I love her!”

Kylian lets out a quiet breath, something almost like a laugh, but there is no humor in it.

“No,” he says. “You love who she used to be.”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

“You love who you thought she would become. You grew up together,” he continues. “She was your escape. The hope and light at the end of an incredibly dark tunnel. But because you were never allowed to have her, she never had to tell you how different her dreams looked from yours. She was never allowed a choice.”

Arlo’s face is twisting between hurt and rage, but Kylian isn’t finished twisting the knife.

“But now you can have her,” he goes on. “Now she is here, standing in front of you, free to choose you, free to walk away with you, free to build that simple life you keep talking about.”

My chest tightens.

“And she didn’t,” Kylian finishes.

Arlo’s expression cracks, just for a second, something wounded flashing across his face before the anger rushes back in to cover it.

“She’s confused,” he snaps. “You think it’s impossible to mistake gratitude for love? You swooped in when she was scared and vulnerable, waving around endless money and promises about keeping her safe, saved her from a flesh-market cage or Crawly’s . . .”

His eyes fly to me for a second as his words trail off.

“From Crawly’s whip.” He mumbles the words like he’s realized something awful, and my stomach roils.

Arlo looks at me then, really looks at me, searching my face like he is trying to find something, anything that promises a different outcome.

“Do you love him?” he asks, his voice rough in a way I have never heard from him before, like the question is dragging something out of him that he cannot hold back anymore. “Was it just gratitude you felt for me? Obligation?”

“I love him, Arlo. What I felt for you . . .” I glance at Kylian, whose gaze remains on Arlo. “It changed. I changed.”

Arlo shakes his head.

“This isn’t happening,” he says under his breath, more to himself than to me.

He turns for the door.

“Arlo, please. Please don’t hate me,” I rush after him again, panic rising as I reach for his arm. “We can still be—”

He spins on me so quickly I flinch.

“Don’t,” he snaps, shaking a finger in front of my face. “Don’t stand there and act like this is something we can just go back from.” His eyes lock on mine with a pain I don’t know how to ease. “Like I can just stand beside you and pretend we were always just friends.”

“I’m not asking you to pretend. I’m asking you to understand. I never wanted to lose—”

“You didn’t lose me, Alessia,” he shoots back, my full name in his mouth like a swear. “You fucking threw me away.”

Hot tears fall freely as I shake my head. “I just want to fix this,” I whisper.

He peers past me to Kylian briefly. “You want to fix something?” he says, his tone changing. “Then help me get home to my sister.”

“Arlo—”

But he doesn’t wait. He pulls his arm from my grasp and storms out of the room. I stare after him for a moment in disbelief before turning back to Kylian.