Silence filled the air like an invisible fog, thick and unmoving, settling over the space between them.
To Arthur and Nike, the world had shrunk to just the two of them—an intimate battlefield of memories and pain, where nothing else mattered.
The wounded cries in the background, the wind rustling, even the shattered surroundings—none of it reached them.
Nike's breath caught in her throat.
Her heart pounded violently against her chest, as if trying to escape her ribcage.
Her hands clenched tightly into fists, nails digging so deep into her palms that thin lines of blood welled up, staining her fingers crimson.
She didn't even notice.
All she saw was Arthur—her childhood friend, now standing before her like a stranger cloaked in cold ambition.
She shook her head, slowly, a tremble running through her entire body.
"No…" Nike said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
It cracked and faltered, weighed down by disbelief and heartbreak.
