Lennox's POV
I stood there, staring at the empty space she had left behind, my chest tight, my fingers slowly curling into fists like I was holding myself together.
The room still smelled like her.
Still felt like her.
And it hurt.
I wanted to run after her.
I wanted to grab her hand before she could get too far and tell her the truth — that I didn't want this break, that I didn't want distance, that I didn't want a single second of life without her.
I wanted to tell her that even though we were broken, I still wanted to fight for us. That I would crawl through hell if it meant keeping her.
But I didn't move.
Because somewhere deep inside, I knew she was right.
We weren't just hurt.
We were shattered.
And shattered people don't know how to love without cutting each other open.
We kept hurting her.
Even when we were trying to protect her.
Even when we were trying to love her.
So I stayed still and let her go, even though it felt like ripping my own heart out.
