IT'S OVER

IT'S OVER
Kelvin's pov

I studied the lunch bag on the small metal table before lifting my eyes to her face.
Vivian’s eyes used to be alive. Sharp. Curious.

They once held laughter, arrogance, curiosity for the world around her. Now they were hollow,sunken into a face that still carried beauty, but no warmth. Just fractures. Just rage and disbelief stitched together with desperation.

She had been the cherished daughter of a man everyone respected. A man people spoke of fondly even after his death. And now,only a few years after they lowered him into the ground—this was what remained of her.

An empty shell.

“I don’t want to see you,” she said, voice brittle, teeth clenched so tightly I could hear it. “I told them I don’t want to see you.”

“Vivian,” I said calmly, “it’s over.”

The words landed harder than I expected.
She blinked. Once. Twice. Then tears spilled, fast and unfiltered, shock cracking through her expression like glass breaking under pressure.

“So this is it?” she demanded hoarsely. “This is what you wanted?”

I didn’t answer immediately. I’d learned silence was often kinder than arguing with delusion.

She laughed suddenly—sharp, ugly, hysterical. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to break up with me. I’m the one who breaks things off. Me.”

I shook my head slowly. “You don’t understand,” I said. “I can’t do this with you anymore, Vivian.”

Her face twisted. “Can’t?” she echoed. “After everything I’ve been through? After everyone who’s left me?”

“That’s exactly why,” I replied evenly.
She surged forward against the table restraints, fury blazing. “You looked for me for years,” she snapped. “Years. And now that you’ve found me, you’re just walking away?”

“I looked for you because I loved who you were,” I said quietly. “Not who you’ve become.”

Her lips trembled. “You promised,” she whispered. “You said we could fix this. That we could be everything again.”

“I wanted that,” I admitted. “I really did.”
And that was the truth. When I found her again, some foolish part of me believed time had only bruised her, not broken her. I thought love might still be enough.

But Damien.

Even now, after everything, he still lived at the center of her mind. Every choice she made circled him. Every wound she inflicted was shaped like his name.

“You still love him,” I said flatly.

Her eyes flared. “That’s not—”

“You do,” I cut in. “And worse, you tried to use me to hurt someone else because of it.”

Her breath hitched.

“That’s where I draw the line,” I continued.

“I won’t be a weapon. I won’t be an excuse. I won’t be part of this.”

She began to cry then, loud, messy sobs that shook her shoulders.

“I don’t deserve this,” she wailed. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Everyone just keeps abandoning me.”

I watched her carefully, forcing myself not to soften.

“You abandoned yourself first,” I said. “And then you burned everyone who stayed.”
She shook her head violently. “No. No, you’re wrong. You’re breaking up with me for no reason. For her. For Lena.”

“This has nothing to do with Lena,” I replied. “It has everything to do with what you chose to do to her.”

Her crying faltered.

I leaned forward slightly. “All of this would have ended if you had just let go,” I said.

“If you had moved on. Found happiness somewhere else. With someone else. Even if it wasn’t me.”

She stared at me like I’d spoken another language.

“You were never meant to be trapped in Damien’s shadow,” I added. “But you chose it.”

Her mouth opened, then closed again.
I took a breath. “The police have a recording,” I said.

Her body stiffened.

“A recording of you admitting to Damien that you kidnapped Lena,” I continued calmly. “You’re looking at ten to eighteen years. Even with a good lawyer.”

Her face drained of color.

“And the doctor you paid?” I added. “That only makes it worse. You have motive. You have evidence. No one is going to believe you didn’t do this.”

She collapsed forward, sobbing,ugly, broken cries that sounded like something tearing apart from the inside.
I didn’t move.

“You’re really screwed this time,” I said quietly.

The truth didn’t need cruelty added to it.
She cried until her chest heaved, mascara streaking, dignity dissolving completely. For a moment, just a moment I felt the old ache. The ghost of love that refused to die quietly.

But love wasn’t enough to save her.
I stood and pushed the lunch bag slightly closer to her.

“I brought food,” I said. “When you feel steady enough, you should eat.”

She didn’t look up.

“I’m leaving the city,” I added. “I won’t be back.”

Finally, she lifted her head, eyes red and wild. “You can’t leave me,” she whispered.

“I already have,” I replied.

And with that, I turned away—heart heavy, hands steady—knowing that loving someone doesn’t mean destroying yourself to keep them whole.