Zoe's POV
The moment those two fragile words left my lips — "Brandon… wait." — the room seemed to inhale with me.
It was the kind of moment where your whole body is split in two: half of you screaming to retreat, to run, to hide; the other half pushing you forward even when your gut is falling apart. I felt both halves tearing through me as I stood there in the dim, cool light of the kitchen, the fridge still open behind me, my fingers shaking around the bottle of water I hadn't even managed to pick up yet.
I didn't expect him to stop.
Honestly, I didn't expect anything at all. I'd prepared myself for complete silence — for him to keep walking, to disappear up the stairs the same way he'd been disappearing from my life all week. But then he paused. Not fully, just a breath-long hesitation — a shift of weight, a small turn of his head, the faintest lift of his eyes toward me.
And that tiny movement hit me harder than a scream.
