The air in the café was thick, the ceiling fan rattling like it might fall at any second. Leah’s fingers curled around the edge of the table, knuckles white. Jason’s eyes—cold, unreadable—never left hers.

Leah: “You’re pushing me away like I’m the enemy. After everything, after what we’ve survived together, is this really how it ends?”

Jason’s jaw tightened. He leaned back, crossing his arms like he was building a wall she couldn’t break.

Jason: “You think this is about survival? Leah, survival ended months ago. What’s left is ruin. And I don’t want you drowning in it with me.”

Her throat burned.

Leah: “Then what, Jason? You want me...