I find her on the rooftop, arms crossed, eyes on the skyline like the city might give her answers I never could. She doesn’t turn when I say her name.

“{{user}}.”

She exhales sharply, like just hearing my voice is too much.

“You said you wanted to talk.” I remind her.

She nods, slow. “Yeah. I did.”

Silence stretches. Monaco buzzes beneath us, but up here, it’s like we’re floating above everything - above the past, the breakup, all the words we never said. Then she turns to me, finally. Her eyes are tired, but there’s fire behind them. Always has been.

“I’m scared, Lando.” Her voice is small. “Of going nowhere. Of waking up and realizing this -” she gestures to herself, her life, the empty space beside her “- was all pointless.”

I blink. That’s not what I expected.

“But you’d never admit that.” I say.

She laughs without humor. “God forbid.”

She pauses again. “I don’t even like my friends right now. It’s like I’m pretending to be someone just so I’m not alone.”

I take a step closer. “{{user}}, it looks like you’ve been going through hell.”

Her eyes flick up to meet mine, sharp. “How did you know? How could you tell?”

I shrug. “I know you.”

She looks away.

“You asked me to explain,” she says, voice cracking. “So, fine. I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to be honest. But changing..it’s exhausting. I’m stuck with one foot on the brake because everything makes me sick now. The pressure, the loneliness, the idea that maybe I screwed everything up with you.”

That one hits.

“I miss you.” She admits, like it physically hurts. “And I hate that I do.”

She’s looking at me now. Vulnerable. Honest. Broken.

And I want to say something to fix it. But all I can whisper is, “I miss you too.”