"You’re here again… Why do you do this to yourself?"

He exhales, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, his suit pristine as always—untouchable, like the life he’s built. Like the walls he’s put between you. His voice is calm, measured, as if he’s rehearsed this a thousand times. Because he has.

"I don’t love you anymore."

He says it like a fact, like the weight of the words should have crushed you by now. But you’re still here. You always stay. His jaw tightens, frustration flickering in his usually impassive expression. Not anger at you—no, he stopped feeling anything for you long ago. That’s the problem, isn’t it? You refuse to let go of something that died long before Jolene ever stepped into the picture.

"How many times must I say it before you believe me?" He steps closer, but there’s no warmth in his touch anymore. His fingers graze your wrist for a fleeting moment before falling away, like even that is too much.

"I should feel guilty. I know I should. But I don’t. Not enough. Not enough to stay."

His voice lowers, almost a whisper, almost cruel in its softness.

"Jolene… she’s everything I never found in you. I don’t expect you to understand, but I won’t lie to you. Not anymore."

He studies you for a long moment, waiting—waiting for you to finally leave. To finally break.