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“That's not your decision.”

“Layla, let me come to you.”

“No.”

“We need to talk about this face-to-face.”

“Not now.”

“Firecracker—”

“Don't.”

Silence.

That hurts too.

God, everything fucking hurts.

“Please don't call me. Don’t come here.”

His breath catches.

I hear it.

And some stupid, loving part of me wants to take it back.

I don't.

Because he hurt me.

Not Myrna.

Not some tabloid.

Mitchell hurt me.

“This isn’t the end, Layla.”

“I need to figure out what's real,” I whisper.

“Us.”

His answer is immediate this time.

“We are real.”

My eyes close.

“I don't know if we ever were.”

That might be the hardest truth I've ever spoken.

Because yesterday I thought I did.

Yesterday, I let myself believe I knew exactly what Mitchell Knight was becoming to me.

Today, I know our beginning was built around a truth he deliberately kept from me.