LIAM'S POINT OF VIEW
She wouldn’t stop texting me.
Then she called. Again.
And like an i***t, I picked up.
“Liam, please…” Bianca’s voice was soft, coated with that familiar desperation. “Can we just talk? Just a minute. Please.”
I should’ve said no. I should’ve hung up. But I didn’t.
Now here I am, leaning against the hood of my car while she paces in front of me, her red heels clicking too loud for my patience.
“I just don’t understand,” she says, eyes glassy. “You said we’d figure it out. That you just needed space.”
“Bianca…” I exhale. “That was a year ago. We’ve been done.”
“But we weren’t broken. You just got cold. Distant. You never even gave me a reason—”
“Because I didn’t have one back then,” I cut her off. “I just knew it was over.”
She flinches like I slapped her.
“
