He took a breath.
"Isabella. I'm jus trying to keep you alive."
"And I'm trying," I whispered, "to just breathe without feeling like I'm doing something wrong."
His eyes flickered guilt, maybe.
Regret.
But he didn't reach for me.
He stayed there.
Still.
Distant.
Angry.
That hurt more than anything.
I swallowed, but my voice still shook when I said it.
"You know what, Alex? I can't… talk to you like this right now. I can't let you make me the villain in something I didn't choose.
"I'm not making you….."
"You are," I whispered. "You are. And I'm done arguing with someone who already decided it's my fault."
Before he could answer, I turned and walked away.
He didn't follow and he didn't stop me.
And somehow that caused a deeper ache than all of it combined.
I closed my bedroom door quietly.
Carefully.
Not slamming.
But the moment the latch clicked, my back hit the wood, and my chest caved in.
The tears came fast.
Hot.
Silent at first, then harder and messier.
