Lea left Luca's apartment before sunrise.
She didn't say goodbye. Didn't fold the blanket. Didn't write a thank-you note or smile like she meant it. She just slipped out, hoodie on, head down, eyes swollen.
She walked all the way back to campus, blood pooling between her thighs, skin still humming from the ache in her chest—not from her period, but from being seen.
Because Luca saw her.
And she didn't know what to do with that.
She was used to being used. To being touched without tenderness. She didn't know how to exist in arms that didn't want something in return.
So she left.
And by the time she reached her dorm, Zayne had already texted her.
Zayne:
What's up, ghost girl? Thought you died on me.
She stared at the message. Then sent three words that tasted like poison.
Me too. Come.
He arrived an hour later.
Same knock. Same smirk.
"You look like shit," he said, stepping inside without permission.
She didn't reply. Just pulled off her hoodie and let it drop to the floor.
Zayne's eyes darkened.
He didn't kiss her. He never did. But he walked straight to her like gravity pulled him there, hands already under her shirt, mouth already on her neck.
"You miss me?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
He grabbed her hips, spun her around, and bent her over the desk.
Her knees hit the edge.
Her breath caught.
He pulled her underwear down and pushed inside without a word. No foreplay. No checking in. No condom.
Just the raw, reckless rhythm of someone who thought he owned her.
Lea bit her lip. Tried to stay quiet. But the pain split her in half this time.
She bled. She knew she was bleeding. But she didn't stop him.
He didn't notice. Or didn't care.
And that hurt more than anything.
When it was over, he pulled out, zipped up, and grabbed his keys.
"You always this quiet now?" he asked.
She stared at the wall. "Yeah."
He didn't say goodbye. The door clicked shut behind him like punctuation.
Final. Empty. Echoing.
She sat there for ten minutes, underwear still around her thighs, blood dripping onto the floor.
She didn't move until her phone buzzed.
Luca:
Are you okay?
She didn't answer.
But a minute later, someone knocked.
Not Zayne's knock.
Soft. Careful. Familiar.
She opened the door without thinking.
Luca stood there, eyes wide, taking in the scene.
Blood on her leg. Hair tangled. Shirt twisted.
His expression didn't change. But his hands clenched.
"I brought you your charger," he said quietly, holding it out like it was a peace offering.
She didn't reach for it.
"Lea," he said softly. "What did he do?"
She laughed. It broke in the middle. "Nothing I didn't let him."
He nodded once. Set the charger on the desk. Turned to go.
"Wait," she said, voice cracking.
He looked over his shoulder.
"I don't know how to stop," she whispered.
He stepped back inside.
"You don't have to stop for me," he said. "But you have to stop for you."
Then, just like that, he walked out.
Not because he didn't care.
But because he did.
And that was worse.