Carter's POV
The message sits half-typed on my phone screen.
"Can we talk? Just you and me. No drama." Delete. "I miss you. I'm sorry." Delete. "Are you okay?"
I stare at the blinking cursor like it's daring me to pretend I know what the hell I'm doing. It's been five days. Five days since everything exploded, since my name turned into a headline since I saw Aishwariya's eyes fill with something between fury and heartbreak. Since I walked out of my apartment and into the nearest cheap motel because I couldn't face her. But now I am back and was trying to message Aishweriya to tell her that I am back.
I haven't touched anything. No pills. No drinks. Nothing.
But it's getting harder. I've been chewing on the inside of my cheek so long it's raw. Every sound makes me flinch. My hands haven't stopped trembling since yesterday. My mind keeps rewinding to that bottle. To that kiss with poison on Emily's tongue. To the mess I let happen.
And still, all I want to do is see Aishwariya.
I finally type, "Can we—" when the doorbell rings.
I freeze.
No one knows I am back, is aishweriya knew I am back.
I open the door.
Emily.
Her mascara's smeared, her cheeks red, voice trembling like she's been crying for hours. "I didn't know where else to go," she says.
Every instinct tells me to shut the door. Every memory screams at me to run. But I'm tired. Bone-deep, soul-rotting tired.
So I step aside.
She walks in like she never left. Like this place still smells like her perfume and not my guilt.
"You look like shit," she says, but there's no bite to it. Just a hollow observation.
"What do you want, Emily?" My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. Someone stronger.
She paces the small living room, arms wrapped around herself. "I've been going to therapy," she says. "Trying to fix myself. But I keep falling apart, Carter. I thought maybe if I saw you..."
I stay quiet. I don't trust my voice. She talks and talks — about rehab, about me, about how Aishwariya will never understand what she and I went through.
"You're the only one whom I know here," she whispers.
"Stop." I press my palms against my eyes until colors burst behind my eyelids. "We're not doing this again."
"I'm not here for that. I just needed..." Her voice cracks. "I needed someone who wouldn't judge me."
I laugh, and it sounds like broken glass. "That's rich coming from you."
"I know I messed up. I know I hurt you."
"You didn't just hurt me, Emily. You nearly destroyed me. And now I'm doing a fine job finishing what you started."
Her eyes fill with fresh tears. "You think I don't hate myself for that? For what I did to us?"
"There is no 'us.' Not anymore."
Then she says it.
"Aishwariya's engagement is back on."
I blink. "What?"
"I saw her yesterday. With him. At Riverstone. They were talking about wedding venues."
I shake my head. "No. You're lying."
"Why would I lie about this?" Her voice softens. "She's just... pitying you. I heard her talking to someone. Called you a liability to her clients. Her team's been falling apart because of you. She's losing everything, Carter."
I shake my head, but her voice is already inside me. Worming through my ribs.
"She won't choose you. Not when you're the reason her business is collapsing. You think she'll pick love over the career she built?"
I stand, gripping the counter to stop my hands from shaking. "You don't know her."
"She's ashamed of you," Emily whispers.
That one lands. Deep.
"Get out," I manage.
"Carter—"
"GET OUT!" I slam my fist on the counter. Pain spiders up my arm, but I barely feel it.
Emily doesn't move. "I'm worried about you."
"That's rich."
"I mean it. You look... hollowed out."
"And whose fault is that?"
She looks at me with those eyes—the ones that used to make me forget my name. "We both made mistakes. But we're the only ones who understand each other. The only ones who know what it's like to need something so badly it becomes everything."
The worst part is, she's right. Aishwariya tries to understand. She listens. She holds me when the nightmares come. But she doesn't know. Not really. She doesn't know how it feels when your body screams for something that's slowly killing you.
Emily does.
"I'm clean," I tell her, though I don't know why I feel the need to say it.
"I know. I can tell. That's why you look like death warmed over." She moves into the kitchen. "I'll make you tea. You look like you haven't slept in days."
I don't stop her. I sit on the couch like a shell of myself, her voice playing over and over.
Liability. Ashamed. Losing everything.
My phone buzzes. A text from Aishwariya.
"Where are you, Carter? Please message me back, I am scared.Can we meet tommorow"
Emily was lying. Of course she was. The relief should feel good, but instead, it just makes me more hollow. Because for a moment, I believed her. I believed Aishwariya could throw everything away. Just like everyone else.
"Tea's ready," Emily calls from the kitchen.
"Aishwariya just texted me," I say when she hands me the cup. "She wants to meet tomorrow."
Something flickers across Emily's face. "That's... good. But Carter, be careful. You know how these things go. People say they can handle it until they realize they can't."
The tea is warm. Sweet. I drink.
"She's different," I mutter, but the words feel heavy in my mouth.
"Everyone's different until they're not." Emily sits beside me. Too close. "Remember when we thought we could save each other?"
I do. I remember believing that love could be stronger than addiction. That we could be each other's cure. What a joke that turned out to be.
"We were toxic," I say.
"We were real," she counters.
And the world starts to blur.
It's not fast. It's cruelly slow. My limbs go first. Then my thoughts. Then that tiny, desperate spark of self-preservation I've been nursing like a dying flame.
"What did you do?" I manage to ask, my tongue thick in my mouth.
She brushes hair from my forehead. "Just something to help you sleep. You need rest, Carter."
I try to stand, but my legs won't cooperate. "No... I can't... I promised..."
"Shhh." She eases me back onto the couch. "It's just to help you relax."
I see her blurry smile before she walks out. "Rest," she says while kissing me. And then the dark takes over.
When I wake, the sky outside is black, and the room is humming with quiet static. My head pounds. My mouth is dry. My fingers feel like someone else's. My brain is cotton.
I sit up—or try to. The floor tilts. My stomach rolls.
There's a bottle on the counter. Pills.
They weren't there before.
I don't remember getting them. I don't remember anything past the tea. But I know who left them.
Emily.
She brought them like a parting gift. A reminder. A suggestion.
My fingers hover above it.
It would be easy. So easy. Just silence everything. The guilt. The noise. The shame.
I pick up the bottle. Turn it in my hand.
There's no anger. No breakdown. Just silence. Just numbness so vast it makes me feel like I'm floating in space.
I should call someone. Aishwariya. My sponsor. Anyone.
But then I think about facing her tomorrow. About the disappointment that will settle into her features when she realizes I'm broken beyond repair. About the life she could have without me dragging her down.
Emily's words echo: She's ashamed of you.
And maybe she should be.
I unscrew the cap.
Take one.
Then two.
Then five.
My phone buzzes again. Aishwariya.
"Please reply, Carter, I tried calling you but you did not pick up."
My vision blurs—from tears or the pills, I can't tell. I want to reply. To tell her I love her. That I'm sorry. That I'm not worth the pain.
But my fingers are clumsy. The phone slips from my grasp.
I reach for the bottle again. Pour more pills into my palm. I don't count this time.
Somewhere, I hear the sound of a bottle hitting the floor. Somewhere, my body slides down the wall. Somewhere, I taste blood in my mouth.
And then there's nothing.
Not pain. Not peace. Just absence.
Third Person's Pov
The morning light filtered through the Carter's motionless body. He lay slumped against the wall, one arm stretched out as if reaching for something—or someone—no longer there. His phone lay face-down beside him, the screen cracked from impact. The pill bottle had rolled under the coffee table, leaving a trail of white tablets scattered like breadcrumbs across the stained carpet.
Emily stood frozen in the doorway. She'd come back to check on him, to make sure he hadn't done anything stupid after the sedative wore off. She'd told herself it was concern, not guilt, that brought her back. That leaving those pills had been an act of mercy. That Carter understood the darkness as intimately as she did.
But this—
This wasn't what she'd wanted.
"Carter?" Her voice barely carried across the room. "Carter, wake up."
She approached slowly, as if walking through deep water. Something inside her already knew, but her mind refused to accept it.
His skin was ashen. His lips tinged blue. The gentle rise and fall of his chest—gone.
"No, no, no..." Emily's hands trembled as she touched his face. Cold. So cold. "Carter, please."
She shook him. Harder than she should have. His head lolled to the side, eyes partially open but seeing nothing.
"You weren't supposed to—" The sob caught in her throat. "This wasn't the plan."
Panic seized her chest. Her mind raced through scenarios, each worse than the last. They would blame her. They would say she did this on purpose. That she wanted him gone. That she gave him the pills, knowing exactly what would happen.
No one would believe it was an accident. That she'd just wanted to help him sleep. That she'd left the pills because... because...
Because some dark, selfish part of her had wanted him to need her again.
Emily grabbed her purse, wiping down surfaces as she moved backward toward the door. The tea mugs. The doorknob. Anything she might have touched.
Her gaze fell on Carter's phone. She should call someone. An ambulance. Aishwariya.
But then they would know she was here. They would ask questions she couldn't answer.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, backing away. "I'm so sorry."
She ran. Down the motel corridor. Past the empty front desk. Into the cold morning air.
Her car started on the third try, hands shaking so badly she could barely turn the key. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she glanced back at his Flat Forever etched in her memory now.
Emily drove without a destination, tears blurring her vision. The rising sun cast long shadows across the road, and all she could think was that Carter would never see another sunrise.
Emily pulled over, breathing hard. She should go back. She should confess. She should face what she'd done.
But fear—cold, primal fear—kept her frozen. Fear of prison. Fear of hatred. Fear of seeing Aishwariya's face when she learned the truth.
So instead, Emily drove. Away from Carter. Away from the consequences of what she'd set in motion with a cup of tea and a bottle of pills.
She would read about it tomorrow. Carter's name is in a headline again.
But this time, there would be no coming back.