[Maddie’s POV]

I hear Emily’s voice downstairs and my heart does Olympic-level gymnastics. Very on-brand for my current life trajectory, honestly.

She drove three hours to yell at me when texting exists and is significantly less dramatic.

I appear at the stairs, and there she is—Emily Harper, my entire world condensed into righteous fury and sleep deprivation. She looks like she’s been crying for seventy-two hours straight.

Dad clears his throat beside her. “I’ll give you two some privacy.” He hovers in the doorway like a prison guard. Fair enough—I did text-dump my girlfriend.

I walk down slowly. With each step something clicks into place. Old armor I haven’t worn in months, that Queen Bee persona I thought I’d retired.

Chin up, shoulders back, face neutral. By the time I reach the bottom, I’m someone else entirely. Someone who can handle this without disintegrating.

“Let’s go outside,” I say, voice flat and professional. Like we’re discussing a group project instead of our relationship imploding.

We step onto the porch and February hits like nature hates us specifically. Emily didn’t grab her jacket. Adrenaline and desperation won’t keep you warm in the local winter.

“You can’t give up because you think you’re doing me a favor,” Emily says, voice steadier than her hands. “Whatever David told you, whatever Victoria said—”

“I’m making a choice.” I cut her off, arms crossed. “My choice, Emily. Nobody else’s. Revolutionary concept, but I’m also capable of independent thought.”

“It’s a choice David manipulated you into.” The words come out desperate. “Can’t you see that? He isolated you, got you away from Lakeview, from me, from anyone who could give you perspective.”

“Stop.” My voice rises sharp. “Not everything is a conspiracy, Emily. Maybe I’m just done. Maybe that’s possible without requiring a villain origin story.”

“Done?” She steps closer, searching my face. “Done with what? With us? With skating? With having any kind of future?”

“Done with you trying to save me!” The words explode out, and there it is—the anger I’ve been swallowing. “That’s all you’ve done since my injury. Save Maddie. Fix Maddie. Protect Maddie. Like I’m some broken project you can’t walk away from.”

Her face crumples. “That’s not—I’m not trying to fix you. I’m trying to love you.”

“No.” I shake my head, stepping closer, watching her flinch. “You need to be the hero. You need to save the day. You can’t let me make my own decisions because then you’d have to admit you don’t actually want me to get better. You want me to need you.” The accusation hangs between us like smoke.

“That’s not fair,” Emily says, and her voice breaks, cracks right down the middle like ice under pressure.

“Isn’t it?” I take another step forward. “You’ve been hovering since the day I got hurt. Monitoring everything, checking in constantly. Somewhere along the way I became your mission instead of your girlfriend.”

“I came here because I love you.” Emily’s crying now, tears tracking down her face. “Because David is manipulating you and Victoria is using you and I can’t just watch you destroy yourself—”

“You’re addicted to being needed.” My voice goes cold, clinical. “I was your project. The broken girl you could fix. Well, congratulations—you succeeded. I needed you so much I forgot how to function without you.”

“Let me go,” I say quietly, the words final and absolute. “Please, Emily. Just let me go.” She steps back. I watch something break behind her eyes—some last hope that this could be fixed.

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