The final night felt inevitable.

I sat in my car for nearly ten minutes, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles ached. Every sensible part of me screamed to drive home, to call Jax and tell him it was over. I pictured Mark asleep on the couch, believing every lie I'd told him over the past month. The guilt settled heavily in my chest, but another feeling pushed against it—anticipation. The thought of seeing Jax one last time refused to let me leave. Eventually, I reached for my bag, stepped out into the cold night, and walked toward the building.

I told Mark I had one last...