The rain didn't stop that night.
Neither did the silence.
Rayzen sat alone on the rooftop of the old mechanic shop—legs dangling over the edge, cigarette burning low between his fingers. The city lights below flickered like dying stars.
He didn't smoke often.
Only when something inside him felt too loud to keep in.
Alea's voice still echoed in his head.
"Maybe I don't belong with either of you."
He flinched.
Not from the memory—but from the truth inside it.
Down the street, Kael leaned against his car, bloody shirt clinging to his chest. He hadn't gone home. Hadn't moved. Like standing still could freeze time, could undo what he'd done.
But it couldn't.
They both knew it.
Meanwhile, Alea sat on her bedroom floor. The storm outside matched the one inside her chest. Her phone buzzed—Rayzen, again. Then Kael.
She stared at the screen… then turned it face-down.
She didn't want to hear their apologies.
Not now. Not when the damage still stung like fresh bruises.
All three of them were alone.
But none of them could stop thinking about each other.
The night dragged on, long and heavy. No words. No calls answered. Just space… and regret.
Because sometimes, it's not what you say that breaks people.
It's what you didn't.