The sight made Vincent's throat tighten.
His eyes remained fixed on the boxes while every muscle in his body gradually stiffened.
It felt unreal.
Because if there was one thing he had always believed without question, it was that Juliet would never willingly let go of anything connected to him.
Yet here it was.
Proof that she had.
Not only had she packed everything away, but she had left it behind without hesitation.
For the first time since arriving, genuine panic flickered across Vincent's face.
His breathing became uneven.
A faint tremor ran through his hands.
The pressure in his chest continued to grow until it felt almost unbearable.
Standing in that empty apartment, surrounded by the remains of a relationship he had never thought could end, Vincent suddenly realized that Juliet had removed all the items connected to him because she no longer wanted them.
And if she no longer wanted these memories, what did that say about him?
The thought struck with such force that he felt physically ill.
Behind him, Griffin quietly took in the scene.
"Don't worry," he said after a moment, forcing a reassuring smile as he glanced around the apartment. "Maybe she just moved somewhere else and didn't have enough room to take everything with her. She could've left these behind temporarily and plans to come back for them later."
The reassurance sounded weak even to his own ears.
Because the apartment didn't look like someone planning to come back.
It looked like someone closing a chapter of their life.
"Vincent?"
Griffin gave his shoulder a light squeeze.
No response.
Vincent remained completely still, his eyes locked on the boxes as though he couldn't look away.
"Hey," Griffin said more firmly. "Talk to me."
Still nothing.
Vincent barely seemed aware that anyone else was in the room.
“Are you all right? You don’t look well.”
Griffin’s voice carried a low, steady concern as he studied Vincent’s face. The color had drained from him so completely it was unsettling—like something had been extinguished inside him without warning. Instinctively, Griffin reached out, placing a hand on Vincent’s shoulder as if to anchor him back to reality.
The effect was immediate.
Vincent flinched violently at the contact, as though it had scorched him. In one sharp motion, he shoved Griffin’s hand away and turned his face aside. His jaw locked hard, the muscle along it tightening and jumping as if he were grinding down something far too heavy to speak.
