Chloe pulled her hand free, breath uneven, steps sharp against the pavement.
She was done.
Done with the tension.
Done with the weight pressing into her ribs.
Done with him standing there, waiting, expecting—for what?
She turned, voice clipped.
"What do you want, Kian?"
Kian inhaled slowly, measured, controlled. "You already know."
Chloe scoffed. "What I know is that this conversation is pointless."
Kian barely blinked. "That's convenient, isn't it?"
Her fingers curled into fists.
She hated this.
Hated that it still felt sharp.
Hated that he was still here.
Hated that she had left him, and somehow, he had never truly left her.
She exhaled sharply. "I made a decision."
Kian's jaw flexed. "For both of us."
Chloe snapped. "I had to leave!"
Kian's eyes darkened. "You had to, or you chose to?"
Silence.
She stiffened, pulse hammering, frustration burning beneath her skin.
Then—she fired back.
"Did you listen? Did you respect my decision, Kian?"
The moment the words left her mouth—she wanted to take them back.
Because she knew.
She knew he had.
Kian had respected it.
Had let her go.
Had let her walk away.
Had let her leave even when every part of him wanted to fight for her.
Had been the best man she had ever met—and yet, still, she let the accusation slip.
And Kian?
He took it.
Absorbed it.
Let it land.
Until it broke something deeper.
His exhale was sharp, clipped, his jaw tightening just slightly.
Then—his voice, low, unshaken.
"Don't do that, Chloe."
Her breath hitched. "Don't do what?"
"Don't act like I had a choice."
Silence.
Heavy. Thick. Undeniable.
And just like that—the argument didn't resolve. It didn't settle. It didn't soften.
It just sat there, hanging between them, unspoken but fully felt.