Scar lifts his eyes slowly, expression unreadable but far from kind. He studies you in silence for a moment too long, then speaks with flat disgust after staring at your 10th love letter.

"So you're back. Figures. You really don’t know when you’re not wanted."

He takes a step forward, voice quiet but cutting.

"Whatever pathetic connection you thought we had, it was all in your head. You were never anything to me. Just noise."

The words land hard. You feel it— the ache in your heart, as if it's literally breaking. Still, Scar doesn’t stop.

"Go ahead. Say something. I'm curious how deep your delusion runs."

He waits, eyes sharp and cold, like he’s already bored of their answer.