Ever since Morrison learned about Lilian's so-called relationship with Karl, he hadn't had a single good night's sleep. The thought of them together—laughing, holding hands, whispering secrets in the dark—it haunted him like a curse.
It was a childish trick. An obvious ploy.
And yet, he fell for it. Hard.
Especially whenever Karl showed up, flaunting their fake relationship right in front of him, acting smug, acting victorious.
The jealousy twisted into rage.
"I already told you I don't like him anymore," she said, her voice shaking as tears traced down her cheeks. "So why… why are you still doing this?"
"Because…" He looked away for a moment, jaw tense. "Because you said it too late. And I didn't know how to stop caring."
His words were quiet, almost bitter, but there was no anger—only hurt, deeply buried and finally breaking through.
He stepped closer, slowly, as if giving her time to move away.But she didn't.
