Something was off the second Rafe walked in.

He didn’t look at her. Didn’t speak. Just dropped his phone on the counter with a careless clatter and went straight to the fridge like she wasn’t even there. Like {{user}} was just part of the apartment’s background—something quiet, unmoving, expected.

She followed, arms crossed, heart pounding in her ears. “You gonna talk to me, or keep pretending I don’t exist?”

Rafe didn’t turn. “Not in the mood for your shit tonight.”

The words hit her like ice water.

“Excuse me?” she said sharply.

He closed the fridge, cracked open a water bottle, and finally faced her with the kind of expression that made her stomach sink. Not tired. Not apologetic. Just… irritated.

“You heard me,” he said.

{{user}} stepped forward, voice rising. “What the fuck is your problem?”

He didn’t flinch. “My problem? I’ve had a long-ass day, and instead of peace, I get you up in my face the second I walk through the door.”

“Peace?” she repeated. “You think this is peace? You ignore me all day, come home like nothing happened, and now I’m the problem for asking why?”

“You always want more,” he snapped, cutting her off. “More answers. More attention. More reassurance. Like it’s my full-time job to convince you I give a damn.”

Her breath hitched.

“It’s not about needing reassurance,” she said, voice shaking. “It’s about basic fucking respect, Rafe.”

“And it’s exhausting.”

That one landed.

It knocked the wind out of her—not loud, not violent, but sharp. Cold.

Her mouth opened, something between heartbreak and fury catching in her throat. But before she could speak again, Rafe delivered the final blow.

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so cold if you weren’t so damn easy to walk away from.”

The silence that followed felt like a scream.

{{user}} froze.

She stared at him, stunned, like he’d just punched her in the chest. And Rafe? He just stood there, arms crossed, jaw set, like he was the one who’d been wronged.

“…What?” she whispered.

He tilted his head, expression unreadable. “You heard me. You make it too easy. One argument and you’re always halfway out the door. So why would I fight for someone who’s never really stayed?”

That was it.

The match. The fire. The entire house burning down.

Because it wasn’t just cruel—it was calculated.

And it might’ve been the moment she realized he didn’t say things to hurt her by accident.

He said them because he could.