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The television cuts off mid-laughter—the host’s echoing cackle hanging in the air as the room plunges into silence.

I remain frozen exactly where I’ve been since the moment Liam turned on the TV—staring at the dark screen, unable to blink, unable to move. My body refuses to respond.

My chest aches so hard it hurts. I try to breathe, but air refuses to fill my lungs. I try to think of anything, but my mind simply shuts down, black and ringing.

Everyone else sits quietly in their places, the atmosphere suffocating. Sierra stands close to me—still pale, tense.

I swallow hard and lift a trembling hand to my face, wiping the tears that have been falling nonstop since the first channel. They keep coming, warm, unwanted, unstoppable.

Slowly, I turn toward them—ashamed, terrified, horrified—forcing myself to look each of them in the eye even though my vision blurs.

FORTY-FIVE

Thalia

“I… I didn’t…”

Everything I want to say dies in my throat. And the truth is, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say.

Zayn rises from the couch, moving toward me with careful steps, as if approaching a wounded animal.

“Can you breathe with me, Thalia?” he asks softly, taking my shaking hands in his. “Just follow me.”

I lock my gaze on his face, trying to match the rhythm of his breathing. In, out. Calm, measured.

“I have no idea how this news appeared,” I manage to whisper, fresh tears sliding down my cheeks. “And I swear to you… I never spoke to anyone. Not the press, not anyone outside this room. I didn’t give any statement. I didn’t say anything about my family—about my mother… about any of it.” My voice falters, breath hitching. “I didn’t even know… about what they said. About her… and John.”

The words come out fractured, barely held together.

“I didn’t know any of that,” I repeat, shaking my head, panic growing in my chest. “I’ve never heard that before. Not once.”

Only now, when I glance desperately at all the guys, I notice who isn’t here.

Everyone is present, except Ethan.

He messaged me over two hours ago. Has all this been happening since then? Is that why he sent those texts?

“It’s okay, Thalia,” Zayn murmurs, trying to soothe me.

But I don’t need soothing. I need something else entirely.

I take a few steps back and let my hands fall at my sides, my breath breaking again.

“I don’t want to be comforted right now,” I say, my voice firm despite the tremor. “I need you to believe me.” I straighten my spine, even as my knees threaten to fold. “I don’t know what’s happening, I don't understand where all this information is coming from, but I didn’t… I haven’t…”

My voice shatters, and I choke on the words, sobbing too hard to speak.

But the years I spent surviving in that trailer were not for nothing. I’ve learned how to force myself out of panic. How to stand when everything inside me collapses.

I close my eyes.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Again. And again. And again.

Then I open them, cleaner, more focused.