The following afternoon, I was discharged from the hospital. The moment I opened the front door to the house, a heavy, suffocating wave of stale cigarette smoke hit me.
Adrian was sitting alone on the sofa, his face masked in a dark, murderous gloom, surrounded by a carpet of discarded cigarette butts.
As Ethan and I stepped inside, Adrian raised his head, his cold, piercing gaze locking onto his best friend.
"This is my house, Ethan," Adrian said, his voice dripping with freezing detachment. "The game is officially over. Pack your things and get out of here right now."
Ethan didn't say a word. He simply turned to me, his fingers gently sliding into mine, clasping my hand with a quiet, grounding strength.
"Scarlett, are you coming with me?" he asked softly.
"Yes," I replied, nodding
