There was no shock in Craig's eyes. No judgment. Just that quiet, soul-deep ache of someone who would carry her pain if he could.
She looked like she'd been crying for hours. Her eyes were swollen, glassy. Skin blotched in patches from trying to hold it in. Hair pulled back like she hadn't bothered to fix it, like she'd given up trying to look like she was okay.
Craig felt it in his chest the moment he saw her like that, a sharp, ugly ache he knew he deserved.
Because he was the only one who knew the truth about what happened between them. She had warned him. She had told him he was overwhelming.
That his presence in her life was too much. That she didn't want the attention that came with him like a consequence. The chaos. Heat she couldn't control. She had told him everything about them was too complicated. And that they needed to stop.
And he didn't listen.
Instead, he chased her halfway around the world. Insisted on being close. Insisted on touching something fragile.
