Elena's POV
It didn't feel like words. It felt like a weapon.
Not thrown. Not slammed into me. Not quick and merciful like ripping off a bandage. No ,it was slow, deliberate, almost cruel in its precision. Each syllable slid under my skin with the cold efficiency of a blade that already knew exactly where to cut.
"After what happened, I did not feel anything for you."
I don't know what hurt more, the sound of it, or the fact that he looked me dead in the eye while saying it.
No hesitation. No flicker of doubt. Just calm, sharp finality.
For a second, maybe two, I stopped existing in the room. I wasn't breathing. I wasn't moving. My hand was still holding his like my body hadn't gotten the message yet. It was instinct, a stubborn reflex from before… before this.
The warmth in his palm, the solid weight of his hand, it had comforted me once. Tonight it felt foreign, like touching something that used to be familiar but now carried a charge you didn't trust.
