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They walked out of the apartment as if they were leaving a mediocre movie, leaving Liam and me standing in the wreckage of his shattered heart and his broken trust. He slumped onto the sofa and started to cry—not the frantic panic from before, but a slow, grieving release of everything he thought was real. I sat next to him and let him put his head on my shoulder, not saying a single “I told you so,” just holding him as the silence of the night settled back into the room. We sat there for hours as the sun began to peek over the horizon, painting the room in a forgiving light.
