Nicky stumbled into the doorway, a towel slung low on his hips, his chest still damp. His voice cracked when he saw her shoving clothes into a bag.
"Where are you going?"
Eliana's hands froze for only a second before she forced another hanger into the suitcase.
"I'm leaving."
"No—El, please, don't do this." He stepped forward, desperation thick in his voice. "We can fix this."
Her head snapped up, eyes blazing with tears.
"You think there's anything left to fix?" she hissed. "It's the same promises. Now, every time I look at you, I hate you more."
Nicky's voice cracked, disbelief hardening into anger. "You told me you'd stay if I let you. I let you do me. You swore it."
Eliana didn't even look at him. Her hands kept folding, packing, neat and mechanical, like the decision had already been carved in stone. "I lied," she said flatly.
His breath hitched, chest heaving. "El—"
She zipped the bag with a sharp tug.
