"We're just like brother and sister, Eliana. You know that."

Jax stood in the center of my dorm room, watching me pack. His expression wasn't heartbroken; it was annoyed. Like I was a scheduling conflict rather than his girlfriend leaving him.

"Brothers don't scream at their girlfriends while they're bleeding on the floor just to protect their 'sisters,'" I said, my voice steady as I folded a sweater.

"I apologized for that!" He threw his hands up, exasperated. "I bought you that necklace to make up for it! The diamond one! Do you have any idea what that cost?"

He jabbed a finger toward the velvet box on my desk. He honestly thought diamonds were a sufficient bandage for a severed limb.

"I don't want it," I said.

"You're being ridiculous. Moving back into the dorms? Why? We have the apartment."

"You have the apartment," I corrected, snapping the suitcase shut. "I'm done paying half the rent for a place where I'm treated like a guest."

"Stop saying that." He strode over and grabbed a stack of books from my desk, ostensibly to 'help.' Underneath lay my journal. The leather-bound volume where I wrote about him. About us.

He didn't even check what it was. He tossed it into the black trash bag I was using for actual garbage.

"Oops," he said, the apology flat and insincere. "It looked like trash."

I watched my secrets, my pain, and my love land on top of a banana peel. A fitting resting place.

"It is trash," I said, my voice cold. "Leave it."

I walked to the closet. I pulled out the matching hoodies we’d bought freshman year. The photo album from our second anniversary. The scarf I’d knit him—a project that had taken me three agonizing months of learning to purl.

I didn't hesitate. I dropped them all into the black plastic bag, right on top of the journal.

Jax’s eyes widened, genuine shock cracking his annoyance. "Eliana, that's... that's our stuff."

"It's just stuff, Jax."

He stepped forward, grabbing my arm. "Stop it. You're scaring me. You're acting like... like you're actually leaving."

"I am."

His phone rang. The shrill, demanding ringtone cut through the tension like a knife.

He glanced at the screen. *Catalina*.

He hesitated. For one singular, suspended second, he looked at me, then at the phone. The choice hung in the air.

"Answer it," I said.

He swiped the screen. "Cat?"

I turned my back on him and resumed packing.

"What? Who?" Jax’s voice pitched up. "Where are you? Lock the door. I'm coming."

He hung up, panic erasing his earlier annoyance. "Cat says someone is following her. A guy in a hoodie. She thinks it's that guy from the rival team I got into a fight with last year."

"Of course she does," I said, my tone flat.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means she needs you to leave me. Right now."

"She's in danger, Eliana! She said if anything happens to her, her dad will pull the funding for my dad's merger. I have to go."

The transaction was crystal clear. His loyalty wasn't just blind; it was bought and paid for.

"Go," I said.

"I'll be back," he said, already rushing to the door. "Don't leave until I get back. We need to talk about this."

"Goodbye, Jax."

He didn't hear me. He was already sprinting down the hall, his footsteps fading.

I finished packing in silence. The room was bare now. The walls were white and empty, mirroring the hollow feeling in my chest.

My phone buzzed against the desk. Mason.

*Jax just peeled out of the parking lot like a maniac. Said Cat's in trouble. You okay?*

*I'm fine,* I typed back, realizing it was the truth. *I'm finally fine.*

I dragged my suitcases to the door, the wheels rumbling against the floor. I looked back one last time. The black trash bag sat in the corner, a plastic tomb holding three years of my life.

I walked over to the window. Below, Jax’s car sped away, blowing through a stop sign before disappearing around the corner.

He was chasing a lie.

I turned my back on the window, picked up my keys, and walked out the door. I didn't bother to lock it. I didn't care who got in. There was nothing left to steal.

"He’s going to jump."

Mason’s voice was a tinny scratch against my palm. "Eliana, did you hear me? Jax accepted the challenge. He’s going to dive off the Quarry Cliffs to get Catalina’s charm bracelet. In this storm, it’s not a dare. It’s suicide."

I stared at the wall of the library study room. The paint was peeling in the corner, revealing the cold, gray concrete beneath—a decaying facade, just like everything else.

"Why are you telling me this, Mason?"

"Because he listens to you," Mason pleaded, his breath hitching. "Stop him."

"He doesn't listen to me," I said, my voice flat. "He listens to her."

I hung up.

By all logic, my heart should have been racing. I should have been sprinting across campus, screaming his name, begging him not to risk his life for a piece of silver. But my pulse was steady. Slow. Terrifyingly even.

I walked out of the library and into the courtyard. The air was thick with humidity, heavy enough to choke on.

Catalina was waiting for me. Of course she was.

She was perched on a stone bench, legs crossed, watching a livestream on her phone. She wasn't looking at the screen with fear. She was looking at it with hunger.

"He looks good, doesn't he?" she asked as I approached. She didn't bother to look up. "Standing on the edge like that. A real knight."

"You're going to get him killed," I said.

She laughed. It was a dry, scratching sound, like dead leaves skittering on pavement.

"I'm not doing anything, Eliana. I just told him I was sad about losing my bracelet. He’s the one who decided to be a hero. That’s the thing about Jax. He needs to bleed to feel useful."

She turned the phone toward me.

On the small screen, Jax stood on the jagged edge of the quarry. The wind whipped his shirt against his chest. He looked small. Fragile.

"I trained him well," Catalina whispered, her eyes gleaming. "Since we were ten. If I cried, he jumped. If I bled, he stitched me up. You think you love him? You just love the version of him I built."

A wave of nausea hit me. Not because of the danger, but because of the truth. I wasn't fighting for his heart. I was fighting for control, and she held the remote.

"He won't do it," I said, though the words tasted like ash. "He has the championship game next week. He wouldn't risk his scholarship."

"Watch," she challenged.

On the screen, Jax stepped closer to the edge. He looked terrified.

"Call him," Catalina taunted. "See who he picks."

My thumb moved on instinct. I pulled out my phone and dialed.

On the livestream, I saw Jax freeze. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He looked at the screen.

*Elie Bear.*

I held my breath. For one second, just one, I thought he might step back. I thought he might choose the championship, his future, me.

He looked at the phone. Then he looked at the water below, where Catalina’s bracelet supposedly lay.

He didn't answer.

He tapped the red icon.

My phone beeped. *Call Ended.*

On the screen, Jax tossed his phone onto the grass and dove.

Catalina squealed in delight, clutching her phone to her chest. "Did you see that? He hung up! He hung up on you to jump for me!"

I looked at my phone. The black screen reflected my face. I wasn't crying.

I was smiling.

It was a small, terrifying smile. The kind you give when the doctor finally tells you the disease is terminal, and you can finally stop hoping for a cure.

"You win, Cat," I whispered.

But she didn't hear me. She was too busy cheering for the splash.

The campus was buzzing with the news. _Jax the Hero. Jax the Legend._

He had retrieved the bracelet. In the process, he had also dislocated his shoulder and required six stitches in his leg after colliding with a submerged rock.

I sat on the edge of my bed in the dorms, staring down into the open suitcase. My flight to New York was booked for tomorrow morning.

One way.

A knock sounded at the door.

I knew who it was before I even turned the handle. The heavy, uneven footsteps gave him away.

Jax stood there, his arm in a sling, a stark white bandage plastered across his forehead. He looked like a war hero. He looked exhausted.

"You're hard to find," he said, leaning heavily against the doorframe for effect. "You weren't at the hospital."

"I was busy," I said flatly.

He limped into the room, uninvited. He placed a small, sleek white box on my desk. It was the latest iPhone.

"I got you this," he said. "Mason said your battery was dying. I thought... you know, since I haven't been around much."

It was a bribe. A shiny, expensive bribe meant to mask the stench of blood and betrayal.

"I don't need a phone, Jax."

"Just take it, Eliana. Please." He sounded desperate. "I want you to have nice things."

I picked up the box. It felt heavy, like a brick.

"Thanks."

He sat on my bed, wincing theatrically as his leg shifted. "So, the doctor said I need to rest for a few weeks. No football. I was thinking we could finally watch that movie series you like. Just lay in bed, order pizza. Like old times."

He was trying to reset the game. He thought if he pressed the right combination of buttons, I would reboot to the previous version of Eliana—the one who fetched him ice packs and kissed his bruises.

"I can't," I said.

"Why? You have class?"

"I'm sick," I lied. The words came easily now, smooth and practiced. "It's a stomach bug. Contagious."

He frowned, looking at me with those dark, soulful eyes that used to make my knees weak. Now, they just looked empty.

"You're always sick lately," he muttered. "You need to take better vitamins."

"Yeah," I said. "I do."

He stood up, awkwardly maneuvering his injured body.

"Well, I better go. Cat is... she's freaking out about the stitches. She faints at the sight of blood, you know. I need to go calm her down."

"Of course," I said. "Go."

He paused at the door, hand on the frame.

"You're not mad about the jump, are you? I had to do it, El. It was her grandmother's bracelet."

It wasn't.

It was a Pandora charm she had bought at the mall last week. I knew because I had the receipt wadded up in my trash can from when I’d helped her clean out her bag.

"I'm not mad, Jax," I said. And I meant it. Anger requires investment. I was bankrupt.

"Good," he smiled, offering a relieved, boyish grin. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay."

He left.

I waited until I heard his footsteps fade down the hall, swallowed by the distance. Then, I picked up the iPhone box and dropped it into the donation bin I had set aside for the dorm charity drive.

I pulled my suitcase zipper shut.

The sound was sharp. Final.

He thought he had won a victory. He didn't realize he was standing in a graveyard.