A card.
My body tightens.
“Don’t—”
Too late.
She’s already pulling it free.
“What does it say?” I ask.
She opens it.
Reads.
And everything in her stills.
“What?” I demand.
She doesn’t answer.
Just hands it to me.
I take it.
Read.
And something cold settles deep in my chest.
YOU CHOSE THE WRONG SIDE.
NEXT TIME—YOU WON’T GET HER BACK.
I lift my gaze slowly.
Scan the room again.
Every candle.
Every flower.
Every detail.
This wasn’t rushed.
This wasn’t sloppy.
This was deliberate.
Personal.
A message.
And the message is clear.
This isn’t over.
Not even close.
