LOGINZINNA I knew something was wrong the moment Damien stepped into my apartment. I had never seen him look like that before. Damien was the stable one. The solid one. The man who didn’t crumble, even when everything around him was falling apart. So when he broke down in my arms earlier, really broke down, I felt the ground shift under my feet. That wasn’t just sadness. That was grief. That was heartbreak. That was my big brother holding on to me because he had nothing else to hold on to. And it scared me. It really did. It made everything inside me twist because I wasn’t used to seeing him like that, and I hated that I couldn’t fix it instantly the way I fixed everything else. When he left, my apartment suddenly felt too quiet. Too still. And I stood there staring at the door, feeling this odd, heavy pressure in my chest. Damien wasn’t supposed to hurt like that. He didn’t deserve to be that broken. He didn’t deserve the confusion, the sadness, or the guilt he was drowning in.
DAMIEN For a second, she did not say anything. She only looked at me like she wasn’t sure if I was real. I probably looked like hell. My eyes were burning, my shoulders were tight, and I could feel that stupid pinch in my throat I kept trying to swallow down. “Hey,” she said again, softer than usual. I nodded because I did not trust my voice. The second I stepped inside, she reached forward and pulled me into a hug. I hesitated, stiff at first, but when her arms wrapped fully around me, something inside me just broke. I let my forehead rest against her shoulder as quietly as I could. She rubbed my back slowly, like she used to do when we were kids and I had nightmares. It was embarrassing in a way, but right now I could not care. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re okay. Just breathe.” I tried. I genuinely tried. I thought I was holding it together well enough, but then I felt one single tear fall. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. But Zinna felt it. I knew she did because
DAMIEN I tried to drive home. I really did. I even made it halfway down the street before my hands tightened on the wheel in a way that told me I was fooling myself. Everything inside me felt wrong. Leaving Macey the way I left her felt like I had walked out of a burning building and left someone I loved inside. My chest was tight. My mind was racing. She was not fine. Anyone could see she was not fine. The moment she walked out of that conversation with her mother, her entire energy had crashed. She was quiet, withdrawn, and distant in a way that made me feel helpless. And I hated feeling helpless. I slowed the car, glancing at my rearview mirror like it held the answer to everything that was wrong between us. I could still see the faint outline of her apartment building in my mind. Something was not right. Something had broken inside her tonight, and if I let her sit alone with that kind of pain, I would never forgive myself. I pulled a sharp turn and went back. The clos
MACEY “What do you mean by that, Mom?” I asked, staring at her like she had suddenly started speaking another language. The look she gave me made my stomach twist. Her eyes were sharp, frustrated, and full of the kind of disappointment only a mother could weaponize without even trying. It made me feel smaller than I wanted to admit. She folded her arms, sighing loudly. “Macey, do not act like you do not understand what I mean. I thought you were seeing a therapist.” I blinked at her, confused. “Of course I am. I never stopped seeing her. Things are getting better. She said the sessions were helping, and she said I have been opening up more. I feel better.” My mother gave this slow, tired shake of her head, like she had been waiting for me to say something exactly like that. “Feeling better is not the same as doing better, Macey.” I stared at her. “What does that even mean?” “It means,” she said carefully, “that you are doing something that is dragging you backward. You are dra
MACEY To say I was excited was an understatement. I felt like I was floating on air, my heart practically doing backflips in my chest. I kept glancing at my phone, waiting for Damien to call and tell me he was on his way. The moment it rang, I nearly dropped it in my excitement. “Hey, Mace,” he said, his voice warm and steady, like an anchor in the middle of my chaos. “I’m in front of your apartment.” I practically launched myself out of my chair and bolted to the door. By the time I reached the curb, there he was, standing next to his car, looking impossibly calm and perfect. He smiled when he saw me, and I swear my heart skipped a beat. “Hey,” he said softly, opening the passenger door for me. “Here, get in. Make yourself comfortable.” I slid into the seat, smoothing the fabric of my dress and stealing glances at him. Damien was already in the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview mirror, but his eyes kept flicking to me. “You look beautiful,” he murmured without prompting. My
MACEY It was one day before David’s wedding, and if I was being honest, I had absolutely no business thinking about it. I had told Sam, no, I had announced proudly, that I was not going. I had rolled my eyes, acted like the whole thing was beneath me, and even joked about how boring it would be. And yet, here I was, sitting cross-legged on my bed with my phone in my hand, staring at Damien’s name on the screen like a complete clown. I had no idea what had changed between last night and this morning, but sometime in the middle of the night, my stomach had twisted and my mind had started racing. I realized something horrible. I did not want to walk into my ex’s wedding alone. Absolutely not. That was not going to happen. There was petty, and then there was stupid, and I refused to let David and his new bride think I was somewhere crying over their love story. Me crying over their happiness was completely out of the question. So I typed a message to Damien like the unserious







