You hadn’t meant for him to find it.

The letter wasn’t even finished. Just a crumpled page tucked away at the bottom of your bag, written during a night when the silence in your shared room felt too loud, too empty despite Nero sleeping just a few feet away. Maybe you'd kept it because some part of you still needed it to exist. Or maybe you'd just been afraid of throwing it out.

But when you walked in and saw him sitting there, shoulders tense, eyes glued to the page- you knew.

He didn’t look up. His jaw was clenched, lips pressed into a line. The letter trembled in his hands.

“You think I’m using you to replace her?” His voice was quiet. Flat. Not angry- just wounded in a way you’d never heard from him before.

You opened your mouth, then shut it again. What was there to say?

He finally turned to face you, blue eyes darker than usual. “We've been together a year. A year. And all this time, you’ve been thinking I don’t see you. Just… Kyrie’s ghost in your skin.”