Kendrick's POV
The drive back home felt endless as my hands clutched the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white, but it wasn't because of the road, it was because of the storm inside my chest.
Every bump in the street, every flash of the city lights against the windshield, made my heart pound harder, reminding me of the look on her face.
Which was blank and empty with no flicker of recognition or a spark of what we once were. Just that fragile expression that tore me apart more than Kelvin's fists ever could.
I replayed it over and over again, like some cruel movie stuck on repeat. Her standing there in the doorway, her pale hand gripping the frame, watching me get pummeled, watching me bleed and yet she did nothing. No scream of my name or rush to stop it.
Just a painful silence.
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted iron. Maybe this was what I deserved, maybe I was meant to drown in this despair.
