Affection Score: Absolute Zero

She reached for me, eyes red. "Don't go. Can we just talk?"

Before, I probably would've given in.

But now all I could hear was that line from the chat history—

[I'll break his arms and legs, dump him in a psych ward, and lock him up forever!]

I stepped back, avoiding her hand.

"It's not your fault." My voice came out strangely calm. "I'm just tired."

"Tired...?" Her lashes shook slightly, like she couldn't understand the word. "You don't love me anymore?"

Under the streetlight, broken light spilled across her face.

Her acting was flawless.

A comment drifted past—

[Honestly... maybe Heidi wasn't completely faking it these past few years. This actually hurts.]

That snapped something clear in my head.

I looked straight at her. "Heidi, in these six years... was there even one moment when you were actually happy?"

Her pupils tightened.

She didn't answer.

But the comments instantly blew up—

[Wait, does he know?!]

[Oh crap. Major drama incoming.]

[Heidi, why are you just standing there?! Say something!]

The cold night wind cut against my skin.

I dragged my suitcase and walked into the dark.

This time, no footsteps followed me.

Only the countdown echoed in my head—

[9 days 23 hours 59 minutes]

The game wasn't over yet.

But me?

I was done playing by its rules.

***

I flagged down a cab and leaned against the window, my hands shaking.

Not from fear.

From relief.

So this was what it felt like to drop six years of pretending.

Like finally breathing again.

The countdown blinked coldly in front of me—

[9 days 23 hours 10 minutes]

Less than ten days left to live.

All for someone who was never going to love me back.

How pathetic.

"Where to, sir?" the cab driver asked through the rearview mirror.

I gave him the address of the riverside café I used to love.

Heidi always said it was "too loud" and "too messy."

After that, she never let me go back.

Comments drifted past—

[Where's he going? Shouldn't he be running?]

[That look Heidi gave him at the end was scary as hell.]

[Am I the only one who thinks he looks ridiculously hot in that red shirt?]

Neon lights blurred past outside the window.

For six years, I'd lived inside a glass box.

Everything I saw had been filtered through Heidi.

Now the glass was finally shattered.

Wind rushed in, carrying the smoke from food trucks, the damp smell of the river, the sound of strangers laughing.

It felt so real it almost hurt.

The café was still there.

The bell above the door chimed when I walked in.

The gray-bearded owner froze the second he saw me. "Rowan?"

"Mr. Keefe. Been a while."

"So it really is you!" He wiped his hands and stepped out from behind the counter. "It's been, what, five or six years? You used to sit by that window all the time. One latte, and you'd write for hours."

That's when I remembered.

Before Heidi, I used to come here to work on scripts.

Back then, I was a student at Borevia Film Academy, dreaming about winning Best Actor someday, scribbling notes all over unfinished scripts.

And then?

Then Heidi said, "Acting's too hard. I'll take care of you."

She said, "Showbiz is a mess. You don't belong in it."

She said, "Rowan, having me is enough."

And like an idiot, I believed her.

I quit auditions, turned down contracts, locked my dreams away and handed her the key.

"The usual?" Mr. Keefe asked.

"Yeah." I paused. "And a slice of tiramisu."

I never used to order it. Heidi said I "gained weight too easily" and "wouldn't look good on camera."

But I only had ten days left.

Who cared about gaining weight anymore?

The window seat was still empty.