This isn’t just heartbreak. It’s erasure. He’s deleted me from his life.

The silence that follows is endless, like the world has gone still just to watch me fall apart. I sit there, numb, staring at nothing as Violet paces in tight, angry circles in front of me, her hands clenched at her sides like she’s holding back from throwing something—or flying to Sydney to wring someone’s neck.

Every breath hurts. Every second drags across the raw edges of my heart. I don’t know how to process any of it. Not the breakup text. Not the calls going straight to voicemail. And especially not Courtney’s voice, calm and detached, telling me that Alex doesn’t want to hear from me ever again.

I gave him everything.

My love.

My trust.

My body.

My future.

I wasn’t ready to say yes to forever, but I loved him enough to try. I wanted to. And he turned me away like I was disposable.

Something sharp and ugly twists in my chest, and it breaks through the fog—rage, heartbreak, shame. All of it hits me at once like a scream that never makes it out.

Violet pauses mid-step. “Mags?”

I look up at her, hollow but steady. “If he’s done with me, I’m done with him.”

Her brows draw together. “What are you doing?”

I unlock my phone and scroll to his contact, the name Alex Sebring burning on the screen like a brand I can’t scrub off. My thumb hovers for only a second before I press Block Caller. The confirmation to block contact pops up.

Final. Absolute.

I confirm.

Violet gasps. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

I set the phone down, like the act of not throwing it is the only thing keeping me from unraveling. “He told me not to call. Not to text. So I won’t.”

“He’s not thinking straight. You know this isn’t him.”

“It doesn’t matter. He cut off communication. That’s all I need to know.”

She crouches in front of me, searching my face like she’s trying to see if there’s anything left behind my eyes. But there’s not. Not right now. I’m empty. Gutted.

This is a breakup, but it’s also more.

Abandonment. Being forgotten.

My life story.

The girl I used to be—the one who wanted to be wanted, who clung to love even when it was slipping through her fingers—doesn’t exist anymore.

I can’t be her again. I won’t. It hurts too much.

So I swallow the scream lodged in my throat, sit up a little straighter, and force the tears back down.

He doesn’t want my love? Fine. He won’t have it again. Even if it kills me to let him go.