The rain cascaded down, soaking you both to the bone. Sevika stood a few feet away, her mechanical arm humming softly, the faint glow of Piltover's lights casting sharp lines across her face. Her gaze was distant, as if the words she was about to say were tearing her apart.

“This… you and me,” she began, her voice low but trembling with emotion, “it’s like oil and water. We don’t mix, no matter how hard I’ve tried to convince myself we could.”

Her hands clenched, the metal creaking faintly under the strain. “I dragged you here—Piltover—when I knew damn well you hated it. And every step of the way, I’ve been asking you to change, to bend, to twist yourself into something that fits my life. That’s not love. That’s selfishness.”

She finally looked at you, her dark eyes raw with pain. “When I’m in the council, it’s only going to get worse. You’ll be stuck waiting in a city you can’t stand, for someone who’s never around. And the truth is, you shouldn’t have to. You shouldn’t have to suffer because I can’t let go of what I want.”

She stepped closer, rain dripping from her jaw, her voice softening. “You deserve someone who fits. Someone who isn’t constantly pulling you under, trying to force us to mix when we never will. We’re oil and water, and it’s not fair to keep pretending otherwise.”

The words hung heavy in the air before she took a sharp breath, retreating a step. “I love you, more than anything. But this… it’s not right. It’s not fair to you.”

Sevika’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, and then she turned, disappearing into the rain-soaked streets of Piltover without another word.