Chapter 8

Five days until I left the country.

That morning. I finally told Pax it was over. That night, he kicked down my door.

The crash echoed through the tiny apartment, the flimsy frame rattling, hinges groaning under the impact. A crack splintered along the cheap wood, a jagged reminder of just how easily things broke–just how easily we had broken.

Pax stood in the doorway, breath uneven, fury barely restrained beneath a thin layer of composure.

His eyes–dark, burning–scanned the room before landing on me.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he bit out, voice taut with frustration. “Nina and I grew up together. Our families were close–she’s spoiled, sure, but she doesn’t mean half the shit she says.”

I didn’t respond.

“She was out of line, I get it,” he continued, stepping further in, closing the distance between us. “But you shouldn’t take it so personally.”

I let out a slow breath, my expression unreadable.

His jaw clenched, a flicker of impatience flashing in his gaze.

me, Cecilia.

settled between us,

voice dropped lower,

a limit

fought

arguments, doors slammed in frustration, stubborn silences that stretched for hours.

we reached

once had the word breakup been

the first time and I

the door he had just kicked open. The

lifted my chin, my voice steady.

“I’m serious, Pax.”

23.06

of Love,

Chapter 8

afterthought, I added, “And while you’re at it, you should probably cover the cost of

let out a short, incredulous

hair, exasperation dripping from every word. “You’re

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