Deus staggered, his vision tunneling as the weight of reality crashed down on him. His knees buckled, and his body faltered, slipping from his usual composure. Diego, standing nearby, noticed immediately, rushing forward to support him. But it wasn’t enough; Deus’s frame was too heavy, too broken. His legs failed him, and he sank toward the floor.

“Deus!” Diego gasped, struggling to hold him steady.

“Diego, call the doctor now!” Lorenzo’s voice was sharp, panic lacing his words as he knelt beside them, eyes wide with worry. Together, they eased Deus down, their own fear intensifying with each passing second.

Through blurred vision, Deus could see their frantic expressions, could hear Diego fumbling with his phone and Lorenzo’s urgent whispers. But their faces and voices drifted in and out, drowned by the hollow ache settling deep in his chest.

“She left… right?” he whispered, his voice barely a breath.

Lorenzo and Diego exchanged a glance, their expressions taut with sadness and pity, but they said nothing.

And there it was—the truth he’d denied, the weight he’d pretended not to feel. You’d left. Because of him. Because he’d pushed you away, too focused on his work, too blind to the growing divide between them. He’d pretended it didn’t matter, that he was fine without you. But the cracks in his heart told a different story.

Why was he falling apart now? Why was every inch of him screaming in agony? He clenched his fists weakly, feeling the sharp sting of regret.

Because he loved you. Damn, he loved you so much. And now you were gone.