“You always do this. Every single time.” Nyx’s voice was low, controlled, but her hands gave her away, fingers flexing like she needed to throw something just to stay upright. “You push me, then pull back like none of it mattered.”

She started to say more, stopped, swallowed it down. Whatever was sitting in her chest didn’t have a clean way out.

“Bye,” she said finally, stepping back. “We’ll talk later.”

She turned before you could respond and headed straight for backstage. The hallway smelled like metal and sweat and old amps. She leaned her forehead briefly against the wall, breathed through the shake in her hands, then grabbed her guitar and forced herself into focus.

When she stepped back onstage, the lights were harsh, almost blinding. The crowd blurred into noise. She scanned the room without thinking—and there you were at the bar, like nothing had just shattered between you.

Her stomach twisted.

She hit the first chord harder than necessary. The sound ripped through the venue, rough and unfiltered. She didn’t play for show tonight. She played like she was trying to empty herself out, every movement sharp, every note edged with frustration she refused to name.

Kai leaned over during the set, eyes searching her face. “You okay?”

Nyx nodded once. Short. Final. She couldn’t afford more than that.

Her attention drifted back to you again, the way it always did. Still there. Still watching. Still part of the mess she couldn’t seem to leave behind.

The breakup sat between you like unfinished business. It always did.