"Sorry," Hillary mutters, the word clipped, almost careless, before he walks past Aria without even sparing her a single glance.
The air he leaves behind feels colder than before.
Aria freezes in her tracks, her body stiff as though struck. Her heart hammers so violently in her chest that she almost feels faint, the sound rushing in her ears.
She can't help but look back over her shoulder, her eyes trailing after him as he moves away. His footsteps are firm, unwavering, carrying him further without the slightest hesitation, his focus already elsewhere.
It should be enough. It should convince her. It's for the best, she tells herself, silently, firmly, as if repeating it will make it true.
But the words are brittle inside her head, fragile and unsteady. She whispers them aloud, her voice shaking, "It's for the best." Yet the sound doesn't comfort her.
