I storm through the front door, slamming it so hard the walls shake. My hands are trembling, my throat tight with suppressed rage. I can hear the rain pounding against the windows, the wind howling like it knows exactly how I feel.

“Jenna!” I shout, my voice echoing through the empty house. “Where the hell are you?”

The only response is the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. I take a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of damp wood and stale cigarette smoke. I can’t remember the last time I felt this angry, this... _betrayed_.

I find her in the living room, sprawled on the couch with her phone in her hand, scrolling through her feed like nothing’s wrong. Her face is illuminated by the glow of the screen, her eyes cold and distant.

“Hey,” she says, barely looking up. Her voice is flat, indifferent. It makes my blood boil.

“Hey?” I repeat, my voice rising. “Is that all you have to say?”

She finally looks at me, her expression a mask of boredom. “What do you want me to say, Alex?”

I stride over to her, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides. “I want you to explain why you did it,” I say, my voice trembling with the effort to stay calm. “Why you cheated on me.”

Her eyes flicker with something—guilt, maybe, or just annoyance. “It was a mistake,” she says, shrugging. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“Didn’t mean anything?” I repeat, my voice breaking. “You’ve caused me so much pain, yet the love I feel for you blinds me of it!”

She sits up, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t be so dramatic, Alex,” she snaps. “It’s not like you haven’t messed up too.”

My mind reels, images flashing through my head—nights spent waiting for her calls, her empty promises, the way she looked at him at that party. I can almost taste the bitterness on my tongue, feel the bile rising in my throat.

“I’ve _never_ done anything like this,” I say, my voice cracking. “I trusted you, Jenna. I loved you.”

She rolls her eyes, getting up from the couch. “Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t have,” she says, brushing past me. Her perfume lingers in the air, a sickly sweet reminder of everything that’s wrong between us.

I grab her arm, my grip tight. “Don’t walk away from me,” I say, my voice low and dangerous.

She yanks her arm free, glaring at me. “Let go of me, Alex,” she hisses. “You’re not my dad.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, the breath knocked out of me. “Is that really what you think?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. “That I’m trying to control you?”

She doesn’t answer, just looks at me with those cold, hard eyes. And I realize, with a sickening clarity, that she doesn’t care. She never did.

The room feels like it’s closing in on me, the walls pressing in, the air too thick to breathe. I stumble back, the edges of my vision blurring. “I can’t do this anymore,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay when it’s not.”

She just shrugs, turning away. “Fine by me,” she says, heading for the door. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

I watch her leave, my heart pounding in my chest, my head spinning. The door slams shut behind her, the sound echoing in the empty house.

And for the first time, I let myself feel it—all the pain, the anger, the heartbreak. I sink to the floor, tears streaming down my face, my body wracked with sobs. The taste of salt is sharp on my lips, the sound of my cries filling the silence.

But even through the pain, I can’t help but think of her—her smile, her laugh, the way she made me feel _alive_. And I know, deep down, that I’ll always love her. Even if it destroys me.