Keifer's PoV
The door clicked shut. That sound — small, final — tore through me louder than any scream could've.
For a second, maybe two, I just stood there. Frozen. The air still smelled like her — that mix of rain and something soft I could never name.
My chest felt too small, my lungs too tight. Every breath hurt, like it was scraping through broken glass.
Freya was still in the room. Or maybe she wasn't — I didn't care enough to check. The world had narrowed down to that door, that silence, that absence.
I stumbled back to the couch, hands shaking, head pounding. Jay's voice echoed — "You can't kiss me like I'm everything and let someone else put their hand on you."
God, the way she said it. Like she'd already started to let go.
I grabbed my phone. My thumb hovered over her name. Should I call? Text? Would she even read it?
Instead, I typed —
I swear it wasn't what you think. Please just let me explain.
Then I stared at it. Read it. Deleted it. Typed it again. And again.
Until finally, I threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall, dropped, and everything inside me cracked with it.
The apartment felt wrong without her laughter bouncing off the walls. Wrong without her voice humming half-songs in the kitchen. Wrong without the quiet she filled with meaning.
Freya was gone too by then. She said something — maybe sorry, maybe nothing — I didn't really hear. The only word left in my head was Jay.
I went to the window. The rain had started again, thin at first, then heavy, blurring the city into a mess of grey. I pressed my forehead against the glass and whispered,
"I ruined it, didn't I?"
The glass didn't answer. Neither did she. But deep down, I already knew.
Still, I wasn't done. Not yet. Tomorrow, I'd find her. Even if she didn't want to listen. Even if she hated me for it.
Because some things — some people — you don't walk away from without a fight.
And Jay was one of them.