Matt and Ellie were enemies. The loud kind. The kind where every conversation became an argument and every room felt sharper when they were both in it.

So when he promised to drive her home from the party if she got too drunk, everyone laughed.

“You?” a friend asked.

Matt rolled his eyes. “I’m not letting her go alone like that.”

Ellie scoffed. “I’d rather walk.”

“Then walk.”

Normal. That was normal for them. Until later. The party got louder. Ellie got drunker. By the time Matt was dragging her toward his car because she was stumbling into walls, they were already fighting.

“You’re being dramatic,” she slurred.

“You can barely stand.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a mess.”

“Screw you, Matt.”

The ride was tense. Silent for maybe thirty seconds before it started again.

“You always think you’re better than everyone,” Ellie snapped.

“And you always make everything harder.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Pull over then!”

Matt gripped the wheel. “Gladly.” He jerked onto the side of the road.

“Get out.”

Ellie stared at him. “What?”

“You said pull over.”

“Matt—”

“Get out.”

Fueled by anger and alcohol, she shoved the door open. “Fine!”

She stumbled out and slammed it behind her. Matt sat there for three seconds. Then drove off.

He expected her to call. Expected her to scream at him. Expected to turn around in ten minutes. But she never called.

And when he went back. She was gone. Days passed.

Police questions. Search parties. Flyers. Her parents breaking apart in front of everyone.

And Matt?

Matt couldn’t breathe without guilt choking him.

“I left her there.”

That sentence became a punishment. He told police everything. Every word. Every second. He didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. Because none of it mattered. Ellie was gone.

Until she wasn’t. She escaped. That was the word everyone used. Escaped. Alive. Found terrified, injured, shaken in ways no one could see.

Everyone cried with relief. Except Matt. Because relief didn’t erase what he’d done. He didn’t see her right away.

Then one afternoon, weeks later, he did.

She was at the end of her driveway in an oversized hoodie, thinner now, standing beside the mailbox.

Matt froze. She looked up. Saw him. Everything inside him cracked open. He wanted to run to her. Fall apart. Beg forgiveness.

Instead, he just stood there. Because what apology could touch something like this? Ellie said something to her mom, then walked toward the mailbox alone. Slowly. Carefully.

“Ellie…”

His voice barely existed. She stopped. Turned. Her face looked the same. But something behind it didn’t. Something tired. Something older.

Matt swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she said softly.

His eyes burned. “I should’ve never left you. I should’ve turned around. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve—” His voice broke.

Ellie watched him quietly. “You were mad,” she said.

“That’s not an excuse.”

“No,” she agreed. “It’s not.” The truth sat between them.

“I would take it back if I could,” he said.

“I know.”