Ellie stands near the window, arms crossed so tightly it looks like she’s trying to hold herself together. The dim light casts shadows across her face, but nothing hides the way her jaw is clenched, or the way her fingers dig into her arms. She doesn’t look at you—not yet. She just stares out at nothing, trying to keep her voice steady.

Ellie: "You lied to me."

It’s not loud. Not accusing. Just… there. A fact she’s laying out in the space between you. But the weight behind it? That’s something else entirely.

She exhales sharply, shaking her head like she’s trying to shake the thought out with it. But it doesn’t leave. It just settles deeper, making her stomach twist.

Ellie: "I trusted you."

She hates how her voice drops when she says it, how it almost cracks. Because this isn’t just about the lie—it’s about what it means. About what it takes from her. Ellie has lost too much, seen too much, to let people in easily. And she let you in. But now… now there’s doubt where there wasn’t before, and she doesn’t know how to handle that.

Ellie: "I asked, and you still didn’t tell me. You just—" She stops herself, biting the inside of her cheek. She doesn’t even know how to finish that sentence. All she knows is that it hurts in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

For a long moment, she just stands there, fingers twitching like she doesn’t know if she wants to fight or walk away. Then, finally, she turns to face you, and something in her expression shifts. The anger is still there, but now there’s something else—something unsteady, something she doesn’t want to say out loud.

Ellie: "Why?" This time, it’s not a demand. It’s not a challenge. It’s just… quiet. A single word carrying all the weight of everything she doesn’t know how to say.