This Wasn't in the Floor Plan

I knew the second her expression changed.

One moment, Camille was on top of me—kissing like she couldn't get enough, fingers in my hair, breath hot against my mouth—and the next, she froze.

Eyes wide. Lips parted.

Staring past my shoulder.

Then her voice—small, unsure, like she already hated the question but couldn't stop herself.

"Sab?"

Shit.

My stomach dropped.

I followed her horrified gaze and saw my phone screen, propped in the car holder, suddenly lighting up with an incoming notification. The name displayed prominently on the locked screen, stark against the dark background, was instantly visible to her:

Sab ❤️ New Message

Just her name and the heart emoji, visible even on the lock screen, was enough. Her breath hitched. But then, as my own face turned fully towards the phone to see what had her so transfixed, trying to understand her sudden terror, the screen shimmered. The Face ID icon whirred for a nanosecond, and the phone unlocked, revealing the full, damning preview of the new message from Sab expanding across the top of the screen: "I was selfish back then. I didn't realize what I had until it was too late. You really did love me, huh?..."

My chest hollowed out like a sinkhole opened inside me.

Just like that, everything fractured. The heat, the intimacy, the fragile trust we'd been building – it all shattered into a million irreparable pieces right there in the dim light of my car.

Camille climbed off me like the seat had burned her, recoiling as if I'd physically struck her. She fumbled blindly for the door handle. I sat up fast, my own heart slamming against my ribs, hand instinctively reaching for her wrist. "Camille—wait, just let me explain. It's not what you think."

But she'd already shoved the door open, scrambling out. She was halfway out before I could blink.

"Camille!"

I scrambled out after her, heart in my throat. She was already running up the short path to her gate, her figure lit by the yellow glow of the streetlamp, hair bouncing, movements frantic.

I caught up just enough to grab her arm. "Please. Just listen to me."

She jolted away from my grip like I'd burned her.

I felt it—that clean break of trust. Like she wouldn't even let me touch her anymore.

Her mother was already standing at the top of the porch steps, drawn by the commotion, eyebrows pinched in concern. Camille's brother, Benj, peeked out from behind the screen door, his expression confused. I didn't dare follow her any further, not with her family watching, not with that look of devastation on her face..

I watched helplessly as Camille bolted up the steps. She didn't look back.

Then the door slammed shut.

And I stood there, chest heaving, heart pounding like it didn't know what the hell to do without her.

I stayed outside her gate for maybe a full minute, but it felt like hours.

No footsteps. No second chance.

Just me. Alone. And stupid.

I finally turned around and walked back to the car, every step heavier than the last. My legs moved on autopilot, but my brain was in freefall.