“Emily, what’s this about?” he asked, stopping a few feet away.
I stared at him, not saying anything for a moment. I didn’t even feel anger anymore. Just... emptiness. The air felt thick between us, charged with all the unspoken words and lingering feelings that had built up over the years.
“Why?” I finally asked, my voice low but steady.
He frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “Why what?”
“Why do you keep pretending I matter to you?” I said, my voice growing sharper with each word. “You’re never here, Luke. You’re always running after her. Ayla.” Her name tasted bitter on my tongue, like a poison I couldn’t swallow.
He shifted, uncomfortable, and I could see the tension in his shoulders. “You don’t understand—”
“I understand perfectly,” I cut him off, my heart racing as I stepped closer. “I know you love her. You’ve never stopped loving her. But what about me? I’ve been standing here, waiting for you to see me for years.”
The silence that followed felt like a weight pressing down on us. His gaze dropped to the ground, jaw clenched tight as if my words physically pained him. “It’s complicated,” he murmured, the words barely escaping his lips.