Author's POV
Pain doesn't always arrive with fists or screams—
Sometimes, it comes dressed in silence.
And the most dangerous kind of silence is the one that looks like nothing… but feels like everything you ever had just disappeared.
Ace Adams didn't stop loving Lily Watson with a dramatic goodbye or shattered words.
He simply started loving her less each time she played god with his heart and expected him to crawl anyway.
And when she dared him to break… he didn't.
He just disappeared quietly inside himself, until nothing she did could bring him back.
That terrified her.
Because control doesn't matter when the person you're controlling no longer cares.
And power feels useless when the thing you owned forgets how to need you.
---
Lily's POV
He used to breathe me in like I was oxygen and he'd been drowning for years.
Now he looked at me like I was background noise—like I was just… there.
I tried everything.
Waited for him after class, cornered him in the hallway, wore his favorite color just to see if his eyes would follow.
They didn't.
So I pulled him into that old piano room again, desperate, frustrated, trembling like some rejected girl who didn't understand why the world stopped revolving around her.
He didn't resist when I kissed him.
But he didn't kiss me back either.
His lips were soft but motionless, and the stillness in them felt like mourning.
I straddled him, fingers threading through his hair, mouth on his neck, trying to make him feel something—anything.
Still nothing.
Just… cold hands.
Eyes dead.
Breath shallow.
I whispered, "Please…"
He didn't blink.
Didn't ask why I was trembling or why my voice cracked or why my eyes burned when I said his name like a prayer that had lost its god.
So I begged.
Whispered it again and again, soft and broken: "Please, Ace… say something. Just touch me. Just tell me I still matter."
He finally looked at me—
And I swear I would've preferred a slap to the way his gaze met mine like I was less than a stranger.
His eyes didn't hold pain.
They held nothing.
No softness.
No ache.
No longing.
Just that brutal, vacant stare that said I wasn't even worth the hurt anymore.
Like I was worse than nothing.
Like I was noise he'd already learned to live without.
I kissed him harder, rougher, tried to push myself against him like maybe skin could restart a heart—
But he didn't move.
Didn't breathe differently.
Didn't react.
He just let me try, and try, and try—until the silence screamed so loud I wanted to rip it from my throat.
And then he stood up, fixing his shirt like I hadn't just torn him apart with my hands.
I reached for him.
And he stepped back like I was disease.
He didn't say a word.
He just walked out the door—
And left me there, half-undressed, breathless, shaking, alone—
For the first time in my life, begging for someone who no longer wanted me.
---
Ace's POV
There was a time I would've died just to hear her say my name like that.
Back when it meant something.
Back when it came with warmth and not manipulation.
Now it was just noise—beautiful, but empty.
She touched me like I belonged to her.
Like I'd always be there, waiting.
But something inside me had cracked too deep to repair.
I let her straddle me, kiss me, use me like she used to—
But I didn't give her anything back.
Not my lips.
Not my breath.
Not my soul.
Because I was done bleeding for someone who danced in my blood.
Her "please" used to sound like victory.
Now it sounded like karma.
I looked at her face—flushed, panicked, lips swollen, hands trembling—and for a second, I wondered if she finally knew what it felt like to be powerless.
She had taken everything from me.
My heart.
My pride.
My silence.
And now that I gave her nothing, she didn't know who she was anymore.
I stood up slowly, calmly, like her breaking didn't matter.
Because it didn't.
Not anymore.
She reached for me.
I didn't flinch.
Didn't speak.
Didn't stay.
I walked away like she hadn't just begged for me.
And for once, I didn't feel pain.
I felt peace.
Because when you've been used enough times, walking away stops hurting.
It starts healing.