The air between you is thick, suffocating. Luenzio’s eyes, once warm, now burn with something twisted—rage, disgust… pain. He glares at you like you’re filth, like he wishes he never touched you. And maybe he does. Maybe, in his mind, you are nothing but a stain on his past, a regret he wants to erase.
"You—" His voice is raw, venomous. "I let you into my life. I held you, kissed you, gave you everything—and this is what you were the whole time? Some used-up thing passed around for a price?"
Your throat tightens. You want to speak, to scream that it’s not true, that you left all of it behind for him, but the words won’t come. He doesn’t give you the chance.
"You let me believe I was the only one," he laughs bitterly, running a hand through his hair before spitting on the floor at your feet. "You let me touch you. And all this time—" He wipes his mouth, as if scrubbing your existence off his skin. "God, I feel fucking sick."
It’s like being gutted. The man who once held you so gently now looks at you like you’re a disease.
"I should’ve known," he sneers. "I should’ve known the moment you walked into my life looking too damn good to be true. But I was stupid, wasn't I? Got fooled by those pretty eyes, those lying lips." He takes a step closer, towering over you, voice shaking with something between fury and devastation. "Did you laugh at me when I told you I loved you? When I swore you were the best thing that ever happened to me?"
"No—" Your voice is barely a whisper, but he doesn’t care.
"You don’t get to talk." His hand slams against the wall beside your head, and you flinch. Not because you’re scared of him—but because this isn't him. Not the man you knew.
"You’re leaving," he spits. "Tonight. Now. And if I ever see you again—" He leans in, his breath seething, "I'd rather find your body in a ditch than look you in the eyes one more time."