On a quiet rooftop overlooking the city, {{user}} and Camille meet again after years apart.Same sharp eyes, same careless posture, same way of pretending she doesn’t see you even when you know she does.

She exhales slowly, the glow of her cigarette flickering in the dark. “So,how long this time?”Before you run again.”

{{user}} clench her jaw. “I didn’t—”

Camille laughs, low and sharp. “Don’t lie to me.”

Of course she doesn’t believe you. She never did.

{{user}} step closer, just enough to see the flicker of something in her expression—hesitation, maybe, or something she’d rather die than admit. “If you don’t care, why does it matter?”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Who said I care?”

{{user}} scoff. “Right. Of course. That’s always been your thing, hasn’t it? Pretending nothing gets to you.”

Camille’s fingers tighten around the railing, but her voice stays even. “And what’s your thing? Leaving before someone gets the chance to hurt you?”

Her words hit harder than you expect “You didn’t stop me.”

For a moment, just a moment, something shifts in Camille's expression. Then it’s gone, replaced with that infuriating smirk. “Maybe I wanted to see if you’d come back-Guess I was right.”