Folding For You

Chapter 21: Killian

I lined up the shot, fingers gripping the cue stick harder than necessary. The sound of the balls cracking together was sharp in the room, but it did nothing to drown out the noise in my head. Work had always been my escape, my way of burying things too deep for anyone to dig up. But lately, even that wasn't enough.

It had been weeks since the breakup, but Sabrina was everywhere. I couldn't go a single hour without thinking of her—about what I lost and threw away. I was supposed to have it all under control. But the truth? I was a fucking mess.

"You look like shit, man," Karlton said, leaning back against the billiard table, watching me with that casual concern he always had. He didn't even try to hide it. Always thinking he knew best, he was always ready with a comment to dig into me just enough to hit where it hurt.

I didn't even bother responding. Another shot, another ball sank into the pocket. I was winning, but it didn't feel like winning. Not even close.

"Come on, Karlton, give him a break," Kaleb said from the couch, glancing between us like something was off. Of course, he could. They both could. But neither of them knew what was eating at me. How could they? I didn't talk about it. I couldn't.

Karlton wasn't about to back down, though. "It's not everyone else who's the problem, Kaleb. He's the one killing himself. Mentally and physically. Look at him. You're tearing yourself apart, Kills."

I gripped the cue stick so hard that my knuckles turned white. But I kept quiet, lining up another shot like that would make me forget. The crack of the cue ball hitting the stripes, the soft thud of another pocketed ball—it was just noise. There was no satisfaction in it. Not when every second she wasn't in my life felt like losing.

"Great shot, Kill!" Kaleb said, trying to sound upbeat like his enthusiasm might make a difference.

I forced a smile, one that didn't reach my eyes. "You might get eight hours of sleep, Karlton, but I still kick your ass."

Karlton snorted, shaking his head. "Arrogant motherfucker."

The words felt hollow, just another piece of the routine. The three of us were bantering, pretending like everything was normal. But nothing had been normal since I let Sabrina go.

Kaleb was scrolling through his phone, oblivious to the storm that was raging inside me. Or maybe he wasn't. Perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing when he sighed and said, "Guess @sabfoldstheworld still hasn't updated her Scrollie."

Her name hit me like a punch to the gut—Sabrina's Scrollie profile. I knew I shouldn't care, knew I should let it go. But how could I when every part of me still screamed for her? I didn't look at Kaleb. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing my reaction. But inside, I was burning.

Karlton, always quick to defend, frowned. "Why the hell are you stalking your brother's ex?"

I clenched my jaw, keeping my eyes on the table, acting like it didn't bother me. But it did. God, it did. Whenever someone mentioned her, it was like twisting a knife in a wound that never healed.

I was trying to play it cool, trying to convince myself that the game, the work, the long hours—any of it—was enough to fill the hole she left behind. But nothing worked. Nothing ever worked.

Kaleb, oblivious or just careless, kept going. "By the way, Sabrina's back at RebelKinc," he said casually. "She started working again, finally. Happy for her."

I froze, cue stick still in hand, and I couldn't breathe momentarily. She was moving on. She was getting her life back. And I was here, stuck in the same place, a broken space, pretending I could keep going without her.