"What if the only way not to feel bad is to stop feeling anything, forever?"

The thought clawed at my mind as I stared at them — Simon, and the girl whose name I didn’t even know.

He kissed her like he meant it. Like he hadn't spent the last six months sneaking into my room after midnight. Like he hadn't held me against his chest and whispered things he would never say when the sun was up. I stood frozen, my heart trying to hammer its way out of my ribs, my fists clenched at my sides.

Simon didn’t see me. Or maybe he did and just didn't care.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

Because we didn’t exist. Not outside the darkness. Not outside the closed doors where he muttered, "Your brother can’t find out," before crushing his mouth to mine like he couldn’t help himself.

Now, I understood. I was nothing more than a convenience. A secret he could forget as easily as he’d forget this kiss.

A part of me wanted to scream. To storm up and slap him, to force him to see me. But another part—the colder, smarter part—just stepped back into the shadows.

If Simon could turn it off so easily, so could I. No more aching for something real. No more wondering if the way he said my name in the dark meant anything.