BLURRY | SPRINA

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Trina!"

Spencer's voice barely cut through the storm, muffled by the roaring wind and the relentless downpour.

She stopped. Involuntarily.

She hadn't expected him to follow her.

It affected her more than she wanted to admit.

The rain lashed against their skin, sharp as needles, as the wind howled through the night. Trina stood a few paces away from Spencer, her clothes soaked, her hair plastered to her face. She didn't know if the cold was from the storm or the distance between them.

Spencer wasn't any better off. His shirt clung to his chest, drenched and heavy, his wet hair slicked back, and yet, despite the weather, the tension radiated off him in suffocating waves. They stood in the downpour, neither moving to close the space, both knowing the unspoken truth.

They couldn't. Not like this.

Trina's heart pounded against her ribs. The pull between them had never faded. Not with time. Not with distance. Not with Esme.

Spencer met her gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to disappear. It was just them, the way it had always been. The way it was always supposed to be.

Then, just as quickly, reality came crashing back. Esme. The lies. The expectations.

"I can't keep doing this," she said, her voice quiet but firm, unwavering even against the wind. "I won't."

Spencer's jaw tightened. He didn't speak right away, just stared at her, like he was searching for the words that could make this right. But there weren't any. Not now. Not after everything.

"I know," he finally said, his voice low, hoarse—barely audible over the storm. "But you're still here. We're still here."

Trina didn't move. Didn't blink.

She wanted to believe they could make this work. She wanted to pretend, just for a second, that fate wasn't cruel, that love alone could be enough.

But the truth bit harder than the rain.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she took a step closer, not out of longing, but out of defiance. "You know," she murmured, tilting her head, "I think I'm finally realizing that I'm not the one you owe an apology to." She let the words settle, let them twist the knife where it needed to. "You owe that to her."

The air between them thickened. Tension, anger, regret—it was all there, tangled and suffocating.

Spencer stiffened, his body rigid with frustration. "Esme doesn't deserve shit, Trina," he shot back, but his voice lacked the fire, like even he wasn't convinced. "I—"

"You never told her the truth, did you?" Trina cut him off, her voice razor-sharp. "You let her think it was okay. You let her believe you were hers when all this time...you've been lying to her too."

Spencer flinched.

She saw it—the brief flicker of guilt. He could argue all he wanted, but they both knew the truth.

He had lied.

Not just to Esme. But to himself.

Spencer didn't speak for a long time.

Trina's chest tightened.

She had wanted him. God, how she had wanted him. But the world didn't care. Life didn't care. And what they wanted had never mattered, not really.

The storm raged louder, the wind whipping her hair across her face, but she stood her ground.

She couldn't stay here.