39 parts Ongoing Mature"You think I didn't want to forget you?" Enzo's voice cracked, raw and wrecked. "I tried. God, I fucking tried."
Sloan's laugh came sharp and broken. "Then try harder."
He stepped closer, green eyes wild. "You don't get it. You're not something I can fucking forget."
His hand found her jaw, thumb trembling against her skin. "You're every fucking thing I can't unfeel."
Her voice rose, sharp with pain. "And what the fuck do you want me to do about it?"
He moved in until their bodies nearly touched, one hand sliding behind her head, pulling her in until their foreheads pressed together. His voice came out low, rough, trembling against her breath.
"I want you to hate me more than you miss me," he whispered. "Just once."
Sloan's breath hitched sharply, her steel blue eyes locked onto his.
Enzo's fingers curled tighter at the nape of her neck, and God, he swore he could feel her breath tremble against his lips.
"Maybe then... I could forget you," he whispered, both of them knowing it was a lie.
_______
Months after she vanished into tequila, ink, chaos, and strangers' beds,
Sloan Harlow still tasted like goodbye.
And Enzo Graves remembered every second.
Because pretending to move on didn't mean he stopped loving her-
It just meant he learned how to suffer quieter.
They broke each other.
Now they're trying to survive the aftermath.
But Enzo's past has a pulse...
And obsession hasn't forgotten her name.
He stayed in the town that still smells like her-every storm, every sketch, every silence carrying her mark.
She ran across oceans, chasing freedom through art, danger, and strangers who almost made her forget.
She can't forget him.
Every touch since has felt like pretending.
He can't let her go.
Not when every scar still spells her name.
Two continents.
One unfinished story.
When love turns into memory and memory turns into hunger,
what's left is the quiet between heartbeats-
the place they still belong to each other.
