Y/n's phone buzzed in their pocket. A text from Chris, sent ten minutes ago: "Outside. East lot."

No heart emoji this time. No playful jab about being late. Just those five words, stripped clean of anything resembling warmth.

The car door opened, letting in a gust of cool, rain-slicked air. Chris sat behind the wheel, both hands gripping the steering wheel at ten and two. His jaw was set tight, the muscle twitching beneath the stubble he hadn't shaved in days. He didn't look over when Y/n slid into the passenger seat. He didn't say hello. He just stared straight ahead at the rain-streaked glass, his knuckles pale against the wheel.