The dim light of the bathroom flickered as Katie pushed the door open. She froze.

Matthew was hunched over the sink, sleeves rolled up, carefully dabbing at a bruise blooming across his cheek. His knuckles were raw, split open, red against the porcelain. He didn’t notice her right away—his reflection looked back at him like a stranger’s.

“…Matthew?” Katie’s voice was low, cautious.

He jerked, dropping the rag into the sink. “

She stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “Jason?”

Matthew gave a short, humorless laugh. “Who else?”

For a moment, the silence between them stretched, filled only by the dripping faucet. Katie’s chest tightened; she wanted to press him, to demand why he kept circling back to Jason when it always ended like this. Instead, she kept her voice even.

“You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep chasing after him.”

He avoided her gaze, reaching for the rag again. Katie exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "I do understand. More than you think. But loyalty doesn’t mean self-destruction, Matthew.”

His reflection flicked toward hers in the mirror—defensive, almost pleading.

Katie stepped closer, her voice softening. “Sometimes the only way to help someone drowning is not to follow them under.”

For once, Matthew didn’t answer. He just stared at the blood on his hands, like it belonged to both of them.