Chapter Fifty Nine

Stacey’s POV:

I stopped counting the days since I was fired. Time blurred, hours leaking into each other like spilled ink. Sleep came and went. Appetite faded in and out. I barely left the couch most days, dressed in old hoodies, my hair in a loose, indifferent bun.

But somehow, Noah always found his way in.

Every day.

Like clockwork.

He’d knock gently around noon, even when I told him he didn’t have to come. He’d bring something—lunch, smoothies, flowers that slowly died in the corner because I couldn’t bring myself to change the water. Sometimes, he’d just show up with nothing but his smile and sit next to me in silence, our arms brushing.

His presence was my only tether to the outside world. The only thing that didn’t feel cruel or twisted or poisoned.

“I should be training,” he’d say, tossing his gym bag aside. “But Coach said I can't train angry. So I do the drills thinking about punching half of the internet.”

I smiled once at that. A small one. But it was something.

The finals