“Yeah,” I whisper.
His eyes lift to mine. “Mads, about—”
“I think we should break up.”
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, sharp and hard. Silence crashes into the car and Ryan freezes, then slowly leans back, like he’s not sure he heard me right.
“…What?” he says quietly.
“I mean—not a real breakup,” I rush out, the words tumbling over each other. “Because we weren’t actually… together. But the fake dating thing—I think we should stop.”
He doesn’t respond right away. He just looks at me, his eyes unreadable. The silence stretches, pressing in on me from all sides.
“We got what we wanted, right?” I continue quickly. “You’re not being set up anymore, and Jacob’s probably scared enough to stay away from me. So… it worked.”
He keeps still, not saying anything.
Please say something.
“So if we say we broke up, everyone will back off. And things can just… go back to normal. We can be—” I hesitate for half a second. “—friends again.”
The word feels strange in my mouth.
“Yeah,” he says quietly, nodding. “You’re right.”
I should be relieved he’s so relaxed about it, but somehow it makes my chest twist. And we stay quiet for another moment.
“I’ll tell the others,” I murmur. “About us ending it.”
One of his brows lifts slightly. “You’re not gonna tell them it was fake?”
The word hit sharp and hard. I swallow. “No. I’ll just say we broke up. And they’ll probably just leave us alone.”
He nods again, looking past me, scratching the side of his head.
“Except maybe Kiara,” I mutter.
A quiet breath of a laugh leaves him. “Yeah. She’s gonna lose her mind.”
The silence settles again, even heavier this time. So I reach for the door handle.
“Well… I should go,” I say quietly. “But thanks for the ride.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Sure.”
For a second, he looks like he’s about to say something—his mouth parting slightly—but I open the door before he can. I step out without looking back and close the door gently behind me.
Halfway up the driveway, I hear the low hum of the engine, and then the sound fades as the car pulls away.
Something tingles in my eyes, but I shake myself out of it. I unlock the front door and step inside. Noah’s in the kitchen, bent halfway under the sink with a wrench in his hand and his head practically inside the cabinet.
“Hey, Mads,” he says, voice echoing slightly from the pipes.
“Hey.”
“Sorry I couldn’t pick you up,” he adds, still fiddling with something. “Sink was leaking, so… emergency plumbing situation.”
I stare at the dripping faucet.
