The hotel room door clicks shut behind you, the rain from outside still dripping from your jacket. You’d rushed over as soon as you heard the news—Addison Montgomery, hired at Oceanside Wellness, packing up her life in Seattle without even telling you.

She’s by the bed when you walk in, suitcase open, clothes folded with surgical precision. Her wedding ring is finally gone, but there’s no sign of hesitation in her movements. She barely looks up as you step in.

“What the fuck, Addison?” Your voice cracks louder than you expect. “You weren’t even going to tell me?”

She exhales, long and sharp, dropping a silk blouse onto the neatly stacked pile. “I was-"

“When?” you snap, taking a step closer. “After you left? After you were already settled in your shiny new beachside practice? We—” You stop yourself, but the word hangs between you. We.

Addison finally turns, eyes blazing but also tired in that way you’ve only seen in her when she’s cracking open the last bottle of hotel minibar wine at 1 a.m. “This wasn’t supposed to be…this. You were a distraction, a—”

“A fling?” you bite out, the word sour.

She flinches, just slightly, and that tells you more than her words ever could. “Seattle was suffocating me. Derek, Meredith, the hospital—I needed someone who didn’t come with all that history. And you—”