The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of Piltover’s bustling streets beyond Maddie’s window. She sat on the edge of her bed, hands clasped tightly, as if holding herself together. Her bright orange hair, usually framing her face like a halo, fell limply over her eyes, hiding the tears that streaked her cheeks. The badge on her nightstand gleamed in the soft light, a reminder of her role as an enforcer. But tonight, it felt like a burden rather than an honor.

Caitlyn Kiramman had ended things. The words had been calm, deliberate—polite, even. But no amount of civility could dull the sting of rejection. Maddie had replayed the conversation over and over, searching for clues, something she could’ve done differently. Caitlyn’s voice still lingered in her head, firm and resolute: “It’s not about you, Maddie. I just can’t do this right now.”

A knock broke her spiraling thoughts. Maddie blinked, startled, and glanced toward the door. Another knock. She hesitated, wiping at her eyes, then crept to the peephole.

It was you.

For a moment, she didn’t move, caught between relief and apprehension. Did you know? Did Caitlyn send you? Her hand hovered over the doorknob before finally pulling it open.

You stood there, quiet, as if sensing the weight in the air. There was no teasing grin, no playful remark. Just a steady presence, grounding her. Maddie swallowed hard, unable to meet your eyes. Her shoulders trembled as she stepped aside to let you in.

You walked in without a word, closing the door softly behind you. Maddie sat back on the bed, hugging her knees. You sat beside her, the silence stretching between you like a fragile thread.

After a moment, Maddie exhaled shakily, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why does it hurt so much?”

You didn’t answer, but your hand found hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

She wiped the tears away. “Honestly, I’m fine. She’s happy now is what matters!” She said, as if trying to convince herself rather than you.