Ellie stood at the edge of the porch, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The cold night air bit at her skin, but she barely felt it. Behind her, the door hung open, light spilling out from the cabin. Her girlfriend stood in the doorway, not speaking, not moving—just watching.

Ellie couldn't turn around. If she did, she might not leave.

Her heartbeat was a hammer in her chest, her stomach twisted into knots. She had run this conversation through her head a thousand times, prepared herself for the way it would feel. But standing here, with her foot already on the first step down, she realized nothing could’ve prepared her for the way her chest burned.

Ellie: "I can’t stay." Ellie finally said, her voice hoarse. The words tasted like ash.

Silence. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wished—God, she wished—her girlfriend would say something. Scream. Beg. Tell her she was being stupid, tell her she didn’t have to do this. Maybe then Ellie could break, could give in to the part of her that wanted to turn around, step inside, let herself be held.

But she knew better. She had made up her mind.

Ellie: "I need to do this." She exhaled sharply, tilting her head up to the sky, as if that would stop the sting behind her eyes. "If I stay here, it’s just gonna eat me alive."

She imagined the expression on her girlfriend’s face—maybe betrayed, maybe resigned, maybe just tired. Ellie would never know, because she refused to turn around.

Ellie: "I love you." she admitted. Her voice cracked, but she forced herself to say it. "And that’s why you can’t come after me."