The words crack like a whip before he storms into the house, leaving me standing there with Nate, the summer night suddenly cold against my skin. I glance at Nate—his expression thunderous—but Jake's retreating figure pulls me after him like gravity. I follow him into the kitchen, only to stop dead at the sound of hushed voices.

"Does Jake know about the divorce yet?" Mom asks, voice careful and low.

"No," Lydia replies, barely a whisper. "We haven't told him yet. We were waiting for the right time."

My blood turns to ice.

Jake's voice cuts through the tension like shattered glass. "You're getting a fucking divorce?"

I peek around the corner to see him standing there, color draining from his face, betrayal etched into every line of his body. Lydia reaches for him, but he recoils like her touch might burn.

"Jake," she begins, voice trembling. "We were going to tell you⁠⁠—"

"When?!" The word explodes from him, raw and bleeding. "Jesus Christ, does everyone in this family love keeping secrets from me?"

Lydia flinches, tears welling in her eyes. "We thought we were protecting you⁠⁠—"

"You and Nate just love throwing that in my face, don't you?" His laugh is hollow, echoing off the kitchen tiles. "Protecting me from what? The truth? Because apparently I'm the last person here who deserves it."

"Jake, please," she tries again, desperation threading through her words.

"Don't." The word falls flat and lifeless. "Just… don't."

"We thought we were doing what was best," Lydia pleads, tears streaming down her face.

"We?" Contempt drips from his voice. "Who's 'we'? Because the only person who actually seems honest with me anymore is Dad. He said you were good at keeping secrets."

Lydia's face drains of color, her composure shattering completely.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, until Jake breaks it by grabbing his keys off the counter. The metal jingles discordantly as he heads for the door, his movements sharp and jerky. My stomach drops—he's in no condition to drive.

"Jake, wait!" I chase after him, panic rising in my chest. "Please, just—wait."

I catch him on the porch, but he's already halfway down the steps. That's when I notice the sleek Mercedes idling at the end of the driveway, bass-heavy music pulsing through the night air. Farrah leans against the passenger door, her friends watching us like vultures circling prey.

“Don't do this," I plead, moving closer.

He turns, and the storm in his eyes makes me step back. “Did you know?” His voice drops low, dangerous.

I falter, heart pounding. “Know what?"

“About the divorce?” He snaps, the words cracking like thunder. “Did you know and not say anything?”

The word falls from my lips like a stone. "I—I didn't know about the divorce."

"Don't fucking lie to me, Nora. Not you." His eyes search mine, looking for deception.

"Jake, I swear, I had no idea." I reach for his arm but he pulls away.