I don't remember how I got there.
One second, I was staring at my phone, heart split in half. The next, I was back behind the wheel, driving like a storm was chasing me. Or maybe I was the storm.
My fingers were cold around the steering wheel. I could barely breathe. Everything in me trembled, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.
Kevin's condo building loomed ahead.
I parked like a madwoman—didn't care how crooked, didn't care who saw me. I marched straight to the elevator, punching the button harder than necessary. The doors slid open. I stepped inside.
Seventh floor.
My heart thudded louder with every number that lit up. Ding.
I walked down the hallway on autopilot. His unit—7C—felt so familiar. I didn't hesitate. My fingers flew over the keypad.
7-1-9-3. The lock clicked.
I pushed the door open. The living room lights were off, but I saw it—the faint glow spilling from the bedroom door. I heard it too.
Voices. Laughter. The unmistakable rhythm of skin on skin. My entire body went numb.
I don't know what I expected. Maybe part of me still hoped I was wrong. That I was overthinking. That Sharon was just another friend. That maybe—just maybe—he really was stuck somewhere, and none of this was what it seemed.
But then I opened the door.
And it was exactly what it seemed.
Kevin was there—half-naked, hunched over her. Sharon. Her legs wrapped around him, mouth curved in a smug little smile, her giggle echoing in my ears like a slap to the face.
They froze.
Time stopped.
Kevin looked up. His eyes widened. "Mace—shit—what are you—?!"
I didn't move. Didn't blink.
"I guess the coach meeting ended early," I said, voice flat. I wasn't even sure it was me speaking. Everything sounded far away.
Sharon gasped, clutching the blanket as if it could make this less disgusting. Kevin scrambled off her, shielding himself with a pillow like a walking cliché.
"Mace, wait—please, let me explain—"
I laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it hurt so badly it was the only thing I could do.
"Explain?" My voice cracked. "You want to explain?"
His mouth opened, but I kept going. "I read everything, Kevin. I saw the messages." I smiled bitterly. "I'm 'obsessed,' right? I'm too much."
Kevin paled. Sharon looked away.
I recited hollowly, "That's me. The clingy, annoying girlfriend you couldn't wait to ditch."
He stepped forward. "Mace, I was just mad. I didn't mean any of it—"
"No," I cut him off. "You meant it. You said it because you could. Because you thought I'd never find out." I looked at Sharon, my eyes cold.
Three strides, and I had her by the hair.
"MACE!"
Kevin's voice cracked in panic, but it was too late. I yanked Sharon off the bed, her scream piercing the air. She clutched at the sheets, legs flailing, but I dragged her down with a strength I didn't recognize in myself.
She hit the floor with a thud.
"WHAT THE FUCK—"
Kevin lunged, but I spun and slammed my fist into his jaw. His head whipped to the side, and he staggered back.
"You want obsessed?!" I shouted, breath ragged. "Here's your obsessed girlfriend!"
Before he could recover, I drove my knee into his gut. He folded with a gasp, collapsing in a mess of groans and curses.
"DON'T. TOUCH. ME!" I screamed, voice raw, shaking from more than just rage. "You're disgusting!"
I slapped him again. And again. The sound of skin on skin cracked through the air. My hand burned. My breath came in jagged bursts. My whole body trembled from the force of holding myself together.
Kevin didn't fight back. He just stared at me, dazed, red blooming across his face, pride and lies leaking with every shallow breath.
I turned to Sharon. She was curled up on the bed now, sobbing, clutching the blanket like it could shield her from the truth. I didn't care.
I grabbed her by the arm and yanked her toward the door. She whimpered, resisting, but I didn't stop. I dragged her into the living room like she weighed nothing.
Her cries followed us until I threw her onto the floor.
"Get the fuck out of this condo," I snarled, my voice low and shaking.
Kevin stumbled in after us—shirtless, bruised, lip bleeding. He rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her protectively, like she was the victim.
Like I was the threat.
He shielded her. Not me. Never again me.
I stared at them—pathetic and tangled together. And suddenly... it all went quiet inside me.
Like a light had gone out, leaving only the ache in my chest. The anger had burned through its last flame.
No begging. No apologies. No second chances.
Just truth.
And the truth was trembling under a blanket, comforted by the boy who said he loved me yesterday.
"You two deserve each other," I said, my voice empty. I turned to the door.
Kevin called my name. Sharon cried louder. My whole world collapsed in my chest, crushing what was left of me until I could barely breathe.
But I didn't look back. Because if I did, I wouldn't leave. And I needed to leave before I disappeared completely—before they finished hollowing me out.
I stared at him—at the useless apology dangling from his lips like it could erase the image of them together, like it could rewrite the words he wrote that had already carved me into pieces.
"Sorry?" I echoed, a laugh breaking out of me—jagged, hysterical, tasting of blood and salt. "That's all you have to say?"
He dropped his gaze, shame pulling him down like the coward he was. Good. He should choke on it.
"You didn't just cheat, Kevin. You betrayed me in every way you could. You lied to my face. You made me believe I was the crazy one—for loving you too much, for caring when you pulled away. And then you told her—" my voice cracked, raw and splintering—"you told her I was obsessed. Like I was pathetic. Like I was just some desperate girl who didn't know when to stop."
The silence after was unbearable. Heavy. Cruel.
Sharon had gone quiet now, curled up on the couch, hiding behind her own knees like she could fold herself out of existence. As if silence could erase her part in destroying me.
I dragged the back of my hand across my face, smearing tears I couldn't stop. They burned, hot and endless, but I let them fall. For once, I wasn't swallowing them down. For once, I wasn't going to be quiet.
"I gave you everything," I whispered, each word shattering on my tongue. "Every single part of me, Kevin. I defended you when no one else did. I made excuses for you when you changed. I believed in you when you didn't even believe in yourself."
Kevin moved toward me.
I stumbled back like his shadow burned. "Don't." My voice cracked into a warning, sharp and trembling. "Don't you dare. Don't touch me. Don't say my name like it still belongs to you."
He froze. And in that moment, looking at the two of them—bare in every sense of the word—I understood something so painful it almost split me open.
I was done.
Not just with Kevin. But with begging to be loved like I mattered. With cutting myself down so someone else could stand taller. With holding on to people who only ever reached for me when it was easy.
"You didn't break me," I said, my throat raw, my chest trembling, but my voice steady. "You just reminded me who the hell I am without you. And that's someone you'll never get to touch again."
I turned to leave—
—but something inside me snapped.
I stormed into the bathroom, grabbed a dipper full of water from the bucket, and walked back into the living room, grip tight on the handle.
Kevin and Sharon looked up—wide-eyed and afraid.
I tilted the dipper and poured the water over them, soaking their skin and shame.
Sharon yelped. Kevin flinched. I didn't care.
I dropped the dipper at their feet, the plastic clattering against tile.
Then I grabbed the paper bag on the sofa—the gift I had wrapped so carefully for him. My hands shook as I stared at it. So much time. So much thought. Wasted.
I hurled the bag at him, the last of my anger in its weight.
"Happy anniversary," I spat. "We're done. Fucking cheater."
I wiped my tears, grabbed my bag, and turned to the door. I didn't look back. He wasn't worth it.
The hallway felt unreal, like I was walking through a nightmare. Their image haunted me with every step.
I pressed the elevator button with trembling fingers. The doors slid open—
—and I froze.
"S-Syron..."
"I won't ask what happened," he said quietly. "But you shouldn't have to come out of a place like that looking like you were the one who did something wrong."
My throat tightened. God. That almost did it.
He wasn't being kind, exactly. Not soft either. But his words hit harder than anything Kevin ever said in all our years together.
I looked at him. Finally.
He wasn't looking at me—his gaze stayed on the panel, jaw tight.
"You saw," I murmured.
A small nod. "I was going to knock. Heard shouting. Then saw you walk out."
The elevator dinged. Third floor.
My heart thudded, but I didn't know if it was from shame, pain, or the fact that Syron—of all people—was witnessing me like this.
Ruined.
Exposed.
"You think I'm pathetic, don't you?" I asked.
He didn't move.
"No," he said. "I think you're just finally done playing dumb."
That wasn't what I expected.
His gaze met mine—calm, steady, unapologetic.
"You saw him for what he is," Syron said. "That's not weakness. That's survival."
Something flickered in my chest—not grief, but clarity.
The elevator dinged again—ground floor. This time, I didn't feel like I was falling apart.
We stepped into the cold night air.
"You don't have to talk," he said. "But I'll walk you to your car. Just so I know you're safe."
I didn't argue. I nodded.
We walked side by side in silence. Two sets of footsteps. Somehow—that was enough.
That night broke something in me. And the silence I wore now? It wasn't just self-protection—it was control. The only thing I still had left.