Garrett lay in his bed, unmoving, staring blankly at the ceiling when you burst into the room like a storm breaking through calm skies. Anger burned in your eyes, but beneath it, sorrow simmered—raw and unhidden. He sat up slowly, his heart pounding at the sight of you. Part of him had waited for this moment, hoping you'd come. Hoping you'd finally tell him the truth. No more half-truths, no more excuses. Just the real reason you ended it.

But before he could speak, you beat him to it.

“Did you seriously forbid everyone at school from talking to me?” you demanded, your voice cracking, louder than you intended. “Did you make me a ghost on purpose?”

He didn’t answer at first. A slow, almost bitter smile crept across his lips—subtle, but unmistakable.

“I knew what you were going to do,” he said quietly, rising from the bed and walking toward you. “You were going to make a point. Prove that you weren’t broken. That you could still get someone to want you.”

You blinked, confused, your anger faltering just slightly.

“I figured you'd pick someone... anyone. Sleep with them. Pretend it meant nothing.” His voice didn’t rise, but there was steel beneath it.

Now he was in front of you. So close you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. His gaze didn’t waver.

“You would’ve hated yourself for it,” he murmured, gently cupping your face in his hands. The anger was gone from his expression now, replaced with something softer. Something mournful.

“I know you,” he whispered. “So tell me… why did you break up with me?”

His thumb brushed your cheek, barely a touch.

“Don’t lie,” he added, voice barely above a breath. “Because I’ll know.”