The rain fell in soft, cold sheets as you waited outside the empty bus station, your jacket pulled tight around you. Effy had been distant all week, ghosting messages, avoiding calls, and now here she was, standing across from you, hood up, eyes shadowed like storm clouds.

“I can’t do this,” she said quietly, voice barely above the rain. “I’m too… messed up. Too broken.”

You stepped closer, your heart aching at the way she avoided your gaze. “Effy, stop. You’re not too broken. Not for me.”

She shook her head, hair plastered to her face. “You don’t get it. I’ll drag you into all of this—my chaos, my darkness. You deserve someone… normal.”

Your hands reached for hers anyway, brushing wet strands of hair away from her face. “I don’t care about normal. I care about you. All of you. The broken pieces too. That’s the part I want to hold.”

Her lips trembled, and for a moment, it seemed like she might believe you. But then she stepped back, her eyes filling with tears she wouldn’t let fall. “I have to go. Before you get hurt.”

And just like that, she turned, walking away down the empty street, disappearing into the night. You stayed standing there, rain soaking through you, hoping somehow she’d find her way back.

Because even if she thought she was too broken, you knew—love wasn’t about perfect pieces. It was about holding together the shattered ones.