“She’s a girl who’s been broken over and over again by the people who were supposed to protect her. Abused. Forgotten. And then… you.” She lifts her chin slightly. “You made her feel safe. You made her believe you were building something together. And when it mattered most, you dropped her straight into the fucking abyss.”
My chest caves in on itself. I can barely breathe.
“She gave you something sacred. Trust. And you broke it with your lies. It’s impossible to bring that back.”
Ria’s voice is barely a whisper now.
“She hears the words you said that day every time she looks at your face. You carved those into her. You can’t take them back, no matter how many times you apologize. Words aren’t dust — they don’t blow away. They live in the fucking air. In pain. In silence. In memories. Not just on paper.”
I look down at the pavement like it might save me. It doesn’t.
“And worst of all?” Her voice breaks for the first time, but her face stays steel. “You knew what she was going to do. You knew. And you still told her to go. Sent her to her death.”
My head snaps up, throat tight, eyes burning.
“She told me everything. You sent her to finish what you started. And now you think there’s a future? That she’d ever want you again?” She tilts her head, her smile razor-sharp. “Why are you being silly, Sir Float-A-Lot?”
Then she twists the knife.
“Stop haunting her. The only good thing you can do for her now is disappear.”
She spins on her heel like she didn’t just rip my insides out and scattered them across the asphalt. Practically skips back toward the shop, humming under her breath.
I’m still frozen when Tank steps beside me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
“Sorry, brother,” he murmurs.
Then he walks off after her, and I just stand here, bleeding in silence. Because she’s right, isn’t she? All I am now is a fucking reminder of everything she’s survived. I’m making things worse just by standing here.
I want to run. Hide. Fucking scream. But none of it will fix the despair swallowing me whole. Because she would be my only escape. But she’ll never look at me the same, ever again. She’s done with me and I can’t even blame her.
I feel it snap inside me. Something deep. Heart, soul, mind — does it even matter which when all three are fractured beyond repair?
Ria was right. I have to step back. Let her breathe. Let her live.Without me.
Fuck, this hurts. This pain, it’s not loud — it doesn’t roar like anger. It’s quiet. Cruel. A constant, crushing weight on my soul.
And just when I think it can’t hurt more — when I think the worst already happened — Adora lifts her head and our eyes lock through the window.
For a split second. Just one.
And I die again.
There’s nothing in her gaze. No spark of recognition. She’s staring straight through me, like I’m not a real human or even the memory of one. Like I’m just air. Glass. Not even that.
I bolt, start the bike, no destination in mind. I’m just trying to outrun the hell I built with my own two hands. The wind doesn't soothe me. The speed doesn't distract me. I could hit the asphaltright now and I wouldn't feel it. I'm already in pieces and I’ll never be whole again.
I end up at the clubhouse. My new room. The one I traded Domino for because she was in every corner of the old one. I don't stop to think. Don't even feel my hands when they find the violin — it’s just muscle memory pulling me toward the only thing that never asked anything of me.
The first note comes out wrong. Cracked down the middle. I don't stop.
I play like it's the only language left. The only thing that can scream for me right now. The music absorbs what I can't carry anymore — her laugh, the light in her eyes, the way she'd mumble in her sleep because she always had something to say. All of it is bleeding out through the strings, note by broken note.
I play until my fingers go numb. Until my vision blurs and I stop being able to tell if I'm still in my body or somewhere outside it, watching the stranger I’ve become. The empty man that destroys everything good he touches.
The tears come without warning but they don’t bring relief. They just fall, quiet and relentless, like liquid grief slipping through the cracks.
Still, I don't stop playing.
