𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ~ | 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯

Splinters

~'~

Max

It shattered me to see her fighting back tears, the weight of my words crashing down on her. When she asked me her final question, I felt the blow in my chest.

"Did I ever mean anything to you?"

Her voice was quiet but piercing, cutting through every excuse I had told myself for why this was necessary. My lips parted, wanting to tell her the truth, to spill everything I'd been keeping inside, but I couldn't.

Because she did. God, she did.

She was everything.

And that was the problem.

I stayed silent. I didn't trust my voice not to betray me, and the longer I stayed quiet, the more I could see the light leave her expression. She stepped back, and her head shook slightly, as though confirming the conclusion my silence forced her to draw.

"Goodbye, Max."

Her voice was small, hollow.

I wanted to reach out to stop her, to do something, anything, but my feet were frozen. Before I could even try, she slammed the door shut with a finality that gutted me, the sharp click of the lock driving the knife in deeper.

I didn't leave. Not yet. I couldn't.

I stood there like an idiot, staring at the door. A part of me, an embarrassingly desperate part, hoped she'd open it again. Apologize for her hurt, yell at me, hit me, anything. At least it would mean she still cared.

But I made sure she didn't.

Instead, I saw the soft, distorted outline of her shadow under the door. It didn't move. But I could hear something muffled on the other side. My jaw tightened, and my chest ached as I realized she was crying.

I raised my fist to knock, to give her... what? Comfort? Closure? Another goddamn excuse? None of it would fix this. None of it could take back the damage I'd done.

My hand dropped back to my side.

I pressed my forehead against the door, needing to feel close to her in any way I could, even though I didn't deserve it. I closed my eyes and bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood, anything to keep my resolve from crumbling.

She was hurting because of me. The longer I stayed, the harder I made this for both of us. I had to leave.

With every ounce of strength, I stepped back. She didn't move. I walked away, every step feeling heavier than the last. By the time I reached the corner, I realized I didn't even want to glance back at her door. I couldn't handle it if her shadow was still there.

I woke up that morning, and the world held its breath.

Her hair spilled across the pillow like spun gold, catching the soft light as though it existed only to honor her. I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, counted the spaces between her breaths, and wondered how a creature so perfect, so breathtakingly divine, could have ever allowed someone like me to touch her.

For a moment, I couldn't move. I was frozen in a universe where she was everything, where the air around her shimmered as if it, too, wanted to cling to her. I felt like an intruder. Unworthy. And yet I couldn't stop looking at her. Her very existence was a contradiction to my own, light to my darkness, salvation to my damnation.