Leon watched her, every second feeling heavier than the last.
Ayla's eyes didn't shy away from his anymore. They held him in place — not to punish, but to finally let go of everything unsaid.
"I loved you," she said. No hesitation. No fear.
Leon's breath stilled.
"I loved you as Ayla, and I still loved you even when I didn't know my name."
His chest rose sharply, but he didn't speak.
She went on, voice calm, almost too calm.
"I didn't know who I was. I was just… Celeste. But I still found myself looking at you like I knew you. Like I was waiting for something to come back. And when you broke up with me," her voice faltered, just slightly, "I didn't understand why it hurt so much."
Leon's jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists on his knees.
Ayla smiled faintly, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was laced with ache.
"I cried," she said. "I didn't know why. I thought maybe it was just heartbreak. But it was more than that. It was the grief of losing you… again."
Leon swallowed hard, his voice raw when he finally spoke. "I didn't know."
"I know you didn't," she whispered. "But it doesn't change what I felt."
He looked down.
"I blamed myself," he muttered. "For not saving you that night. For not looking harder. For being too late."
She watched him silently.
"I thought finding you again would fix everything," he said. "But I didn't think about what I broke in the process."
Ayla nodded slowly. "You did break something. Maybe it was already cracked. Maybe it was just… tired of waiting."
The silence lingered for a moment before she continued, gently.
"Damien was there when I was still figuring out how to breathe. He didn't ask me who I was. He just stayed. He helped me live again without demanding pieces of me I hadn't found yet."
Leon's eyes lifted to hers, and she saw the pain there — honest and deep.
"I'm not saying I don't love you," she said, soft and true. "But the love I had for you — the one that burned and shattered and held my whole world — it doesn't feel the same now. I remember it, but I also remember the silence, the absence, the ache."
Leon inhaled sharply, but didn't interrupt.
"I'm choosing Damien," Ayla said.
Simple. Direct.
And final.
Leon closed his eyes for a moment. Then nodded once.
"I understand," he said, voice steady but hollow.
She gave him a small, grateful smile. "You'll always be a part of me, Leon. But I don't want to spend my life chasing what we used to be."
He stood slowly. And this time, he didn't fight her words.
He simply looked at her, memorizing her face the way he had once done when she was slipping through his fingers.
Then he whispered, "Goodbye, Ayla."
She blinked, lips parted.
But he was already walking toward the door.
Not defeated.
Just done.