Amelia's POV
I make it to the elevator before the tears start.
My hand slams against the button. Once. Twice. The doors take forever to open. When they finally do, I stumble inside. Press the lobby button with shaking fingers.
The doors close. I collapse against the wall.
The truth. He finally gave me the truth.
And it's worse than I imagined.
Because it wasn't that he stopped loving me. Wasn't that I wasn't enough. It was that Lydia played on every insecurity, every fear, every wound from his past—and he let her.
He chose fear over love.
Chose control over vulnerability.
Chose to push me away rather than risk being hurt.
The elevator descends. My reflection stares back from the metal doors. Mascara smudged. Eyes red. Face hollow.
I don't need his truth. Don't need his confessio
