The Shit

it hadn’t happened all at once.

that was the part that haunted you afterward.

there hadn’t been screaming, no slammed doors, no dramatic moment where everything shattered beyond repair.

instead, it happened slowly, so slowly that neither of you noticed it until the damage had already been done.

at first, it was easy to excuse because rhea was busy.

everybody knew that.

house shows, live events, media appearances, training, long flights that seemed to blur together until she barely knew what city she was waking up in.

some nights she left the apartment before sunrise, dressed in black joggers and an oversized hoodie, hair still messy from sleep.

other nights she didn’t come home until long after dark, exhausted and sore, carrying the weight of expectations on broad tattooed shoulders.

you understood.

you always understood.

when she cancelled dinner because creative needed her for something, you understood.

when she forgot to call, you understood.

when she spent entire evenings sitting beside you on the couch with her attention buried in her phone, answering emails and messages instead of talking to you, you understood that too.

you loved her, and loving someone meant understanding, didn’t it?

that was what you kept telling yourself.

until one day you realized understanding somebody and being happy were not the same thing.

the realization arrived quietly, not during a fight, not during some major argument.

it arrived while you were sitting alone at your kitchen table eating dinner for one.

again.

the apartment felt too large.

the television played softly in the background, filling the silence with noise neither of you were listening to.

you stared at the empty chair across from you and felt something sink inside your chest.

for the first time, you wondered how long you’d been lonely.

the answer scared you, longer than you wanted to admit.

still, you kept trying.

you planned date nights, suggested weekends away, saved funny videos to show her later, sent pictures of things that reminded you of her.

sometimes she responded, sometimes she forgot, sometimes she promised she’d make it up to you.

later, always later.

eventually later stopped feeling like a promise, it started feeling like a place you would never reach.

the fight happened on a monday.

you remembered because you’d spent most of the afternoon cooking.

not because there was anything special about the date, there wasn’t.

you were simply tired of eating takeout, tired of passing each other like strangers, tired of waiting for the right moment.

so you’d made dinner, real dinner, the kind that took time, the kind that filled the apartment with warm smells and made the place feel like home.

candles burned on the table, soft music played from the speaker near the window, and sitting in the fridge was a dessert rhea had mentioned wanting weeks ago while scrolling through her phone.

you’d remembered, of course you had.

seven o’clock came and went, then eight, then nine.

you checked your phone so many times the battery started dying, every set of headlights outside made you glance toward the window, every sound in the hallway made your stomach jump.

at nine-thirty your screen finally lit up.

‘mami🖤: running late.’

three words, that was all.

you stared at them for a long time, no apology, no explanation, just three words sitting in the middle of the screen.

the candles had already burned halfway down, the food was cold, the music had stopped playing nearly an hour ago.

and for the first time, understanding didn’t feel enough, it felt exhausting.

rhea finally came home after eleven.

you were sitting now on the living room couch, just scrolling through your phone trying to distract yourself, when you heard movement outside.

the front door opened, heavy boots crossed the hardwood floor with a harsh, echoing thud, keys landed on the console table beside the entrance with a violent clatter.

a heavy duffel bag hit the ground, thrown down with a thud that made the floorboards vibrate.

normally, hearing those sounds would have made you smile, normally, you would’ve been standing before she’d even rounded the corner.

instead, you stayed exactly where you were, curled tightly on one side of the couch, knees pulled toward your chest and hands folded tightly in your lap.

the television played silently in front of you, you weren’t watching it.

rhea appeared a moment later, black cargo pants hung low on her hips, a faded band shirt stretched across broad shoulders, the sleeves riding up enough to reveal the tattoos winding down both arms.

her dark hair was messy, strands falling across her forehead from repeatedly pushing it back throughout the day, and the silver ring through her septum caught the light from the kitchen as she moved.

she looked exhausted, you could see it immediately, the faint shadows beneath her blue eyes, the tension sitting permanently in her shoulders, the way she rolled her neck with a sharp click as if trying to work out an ache that never fully disappeared.

and still, despite everything, despite the frustration and disappointment that had been building inside you for months, your chest tightened the moment you saw her.

it was pathetic, you knew it was, but loving rhea had never been something you knew how to turn off, even now, even tonight.

she was beautiful, not in the polished way people saw on television, not in the heavy makeup and black leather gear she wore under arena lights.

this version, the real version, the one who came home exhausted and irritated after twelve-hour workdays, the one whose eyeliner had long since faded, the one whose hair was a mess and whose shoulders sagged whenever she thought nobody was looking.

you hated how beautiful she still was, hated how your heart still reacted automatically, because part of you wanted to stay angry, part of you wanted to hold onto every missed dinner and every forgotten phone call.

but the second she walked through the door, all you could think was how badly you’d missed her.

then she noticed you hadn’t moved, her blue eyes narrowing slightly as she locked onto your rigid posture.

the softness vanished from her face almost immediately.

she paused, just long enough for you to notice her jaw tighten, then she swept past you toward the kitchen without another look.

“tough crowd tonight.”

her voice sounded rough, tired, and laced with an immediate edge.

you swallowed, keeping your eyes glued to the dark tv screen. “yeah.”

the single word felt strange coming out of your mouth.

rhea ripped opened the refrigerator door with a little too much force and leaned forward slightly, the bright white light spilling across her sharp facial features and tensed shoulders.

she scanned the shelves aggressively, knocking a container aside before grabbing a bottle of water from the door shelf.

“got anything to eat?” then she slammed the door shut, the loud thud vibrating through the kitchen, and turned to look at you, really look.

her gaze moved from you to the dining table, the untouched plates, the melted candles, the flowers you’d bought.

understanding dawned instantly.

“shit.” she hissed, slamming the water bottle down on the counter, the plastic crinkling violently beneath her heavy grip.

one tattooed hand dragged down her face, pulling at her skin in pure frustration.

you laughed quietly, a hollow, bitter sound because crying felt too close. “yeah.”

rhea didn’t say anything for a moment, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, glaring at the dining table as if it had personally offended her, then her eyes snapped back to you.

she marched slowly into the living room, crowding your space, standing right in front of the couch and towering over you with her hands planted on her hips.

“i forgot.” those two words hurt more than they should have, because they sounded completely honest, because she genuinely hadn’t given it a second thought.

you lowered your gaze to your hands, picking at a loose thread on your sweater. “clearly.”

the atmosphere changed immediately, you felt it, the same way you felt storms before rain, a sudden, heavy pressure in the air.

rhea straightened up, her chest puffing out slightly as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, defensive and ready for a fight. “look, i’ve had a fucking brutal day-”

“i know.” the interruption surprised both of you, your voice cutting through her loud tone, making her blink in disbelief because you never interrupted, never.

“i know you’ve had a long day,” you continued quietly, finally looking up to meet her sharp gaze, “you always have a long day.”

something hardened in her expression, her eyebrows drawing together into a fierce scowl. “what’s that supposed to mean? spit it out.”

you looked down, twisting the sleeve of your sweater around your fingers until your knuckles turned white. “it means i’m tired.”

rhea let out a sharp, mocking breath, stepping closer until her boots were brushing against the edge of the couch. “tired of what? what am i doing wrong now?”

you stared at her for several seconds, at the woman you’d loved for years, the woman standing barely a few feet away who felt entirely unreachable, wrapped in layers of armor.

when you finally spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper, trembling. “i’m tired of missing you when you’re standing right in front of me.”

the apartment fell silent, outside, a car passed beneath the building, its headlights sweeping briefly across the living room ceiling before disappearing again.

neither of you moved.

rhea stood frozen at the edge of the couch, her fists clenched so hard inside her folded arms that you could see the muscles in her forearms flexing, her jaw worked once, twice, biting back a roar.

you knew that look, she wore it whenever she felt cornered, whenever a strike hit closer to home than her pride would allow.

“that’s not fucking fair.” the words came out low, dangerous.

you shook your head, flinching slightly but holding your ground. “i’m not trying to be fair anymore, rhea.”

rhea spun around, pacing away from you toward the dark television screen, then her head snapped toward the dining table before she whirled back around.

“i call you from the road.”

“sometimes.”

“i text you back.”

“when you remember.”

her nostrils flared, her breathing becoming noticeably heavier.

you watched her right hand rip away from her arm to rub the back of her neck, a restless, aggressive motion that messed up her hair even further.

“i’m doing the absolute best i can here.” she snarled, gesturing wildly with one hand toward the ceiling.

it was the same sentence you’d heard a hundred times, after missed dinners, after cancelled plans, anniversaries pushed back another week, always the same shield.

you believed her, that was the tragic part, you knew she was pushing herself to the limit, you knew she wasn’t trying to be cruel, which somehow made everything worse.

because if she was trying this hard and things still felt this broken, what was left for the two of you?

your eyes dropped toward the floor, the fibers of the rug blurring into a grey smear.

you blinked hard to keep the tears back. “i know you’re trying.”

rhea’s head snapped up, her blue eyes wide with sudden surprise, but the vulnerability was immediately swallowed by anger.

“then why the fuck does it feel like nothing i do is ever good enough for you?” the frustration boiled over, her voice rising in volume.

she pushed away from the couch and started pacing aggressively, her heavy boots slamming against the floorboards, energy rolling off her in restless, hostile waves. “you think i don’t know i’ve been busy? you think i like being exhausted?”

“that’s not what i said.”

“then what the hell are you saying?” she demanded, stopping mid-stride to point a finger at you.

you watched her chest heave, her body radiating an anxious, explosive energy that filled the entire room, making you wrap your arms around yourself as if you were freezing. “i’m saying i don’t feel important to you anymore.”

rhea stopped completely, her hand dropping to her side, your words seemed to slam into her like a physical blow.

for a second she just stared, actually looking past her own anger, and you saw something flicker behind her eyes, a deep, bleeding hurt.

but it vanished in a heartbeat, buried instantly beneath irritation, beneath fierce pride, beneath every defensive wall she’d built to survive in her world.

“that’s total bullshit.” she snapped, her voice harsh.

your shoulders dropped, not because she disagreed, but because she’d done exactly what she always did.

you handed her your pain, and she threw back fury.

“see?” you gestured helplessly with one hand toward her tense frame, “that’s exactly what i’m talking about, you can’t even just listen.”

“because you’re sitting there acting like i don’t give a shit about you!” her voice boomed through the small apartment, echoing off the walls, the absolute exhaustion of the last few months finally fracturing her control.

“i never said that.”

“you don’t have to say it, look at you!” she took a violent step forward, gesturing at the space between you. “every single conversation we have lately turns into this.”

“into what?”

“me having to apologize for my fucking career.”

something tightened painfully in your throat, because she wasn’t hearing you at all, she was fighting the monsters in her own head.

“i never asked you to apologize for your job, rhea.”

rhea let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking her head as she looked at the ceiling. “right.”

“i didn’t.”

“then what the fuck do you want from me?” she yelled, throwing her arms out wide, her chest expanding as she demanded an answer.

the question hung between you, heavier and darker than any argument before it.

because beneath all the shouting and defensiveness, the truth was terrifyingly simple.

you just wanted her, not the interviews, not the championship belt, not the chaotic schedules, just the girl you fell in love with.

you met her blazing blue eyes, looking at the tattooed arms now clamped tightly against her ribs, at the familiar face you still loved enough to break your own heart over.

suddenly, all the carefully rehearsed explanations in your head shattered, and what came out instead was the raw truth.

“i want my girlfriend back.”

rhea froze as if she’d been struck by lightning.

the aggressive energy drained out of her in a single second, her chest stalling mid-breath, and the water bottle hanging loosely from her hand crinkled loudly in the sudden quiet.

her eyes stayed locked on yours, something completely unarmored and terrified flickering across her features.

“i’m right here.” the words came out quietly, almost cracked, sounding genuinely confused.

you just stared at her, your heart breaking at the sight.

“what?” rhea gestured vaguely between the two of you, irritation flaring back up as she tried to shake off the fear. “i’m right here, i haven’t gone anywhere.”

she shook her head, taking a step back.

“i see you all the time.”

your stomach sank immediately, the realization hitting you that she still didn’t understand. “demi-“

“you’re literally the one doing my makeup every single week!” she shouted, turning on her heel to pace again, her movements frantic and agitated. “you’re there right before i go out for my matches, you’re right there backstage with me.”

“that’s work.” the interruption cut through her rant like a knife.

rhea stopped dead in her tracks, her dark eyebrows pulling together tightly. “it’s still time together, isn’t it?”

you let out a bitter, disbelieving scoff, shaking your head at how skewed her perspective had become. “you honestly think that’s what i mean?”

“i’m saying it’s not like i fucking disappear into thin air.”

“you do.” you spat out, the words bursting from your chest.

rhea’s jaw tightened so hard the muscles bunched under her skin.

you pushed yourself up from the couch, standing on shaking legs, your hands trembling violently not from anger but from pure, unadulterated hurt.

“you sit in my makeup chair for fifteen minutes while staring at your phone and answering texts.” your voice cracked, a tear finally spilling over. “i ask how your day was and you give me one-word answers because your mind is already out in the gorilla position.”

rhea looked away instantly, her chest heaving, which only fueled the fire in your chest.

“that’s not us spending time together, rhea.” you swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump in your throat. “that’s me doing my job.”

the apartment felt incredibly small now, the distance between you shrinking as the emotional weight grew suffocating.

“i’m not your girlfriend when i’m doing your makeup.” the words landed like a physical strike, and you watched her shoulders flinch. “i’m your makeup artist.”

silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, save for the low hum of the refrigerator.

“those aren’t the same thing.”

rhea looked down at the floor, her fingers restlessly turning the water bottle over and over.

you pressed on before you could lose your nerve entirely. “when was the last time we actually went out to dinner? just us?”

nothing, she didn’t answer.

“when was the last time we spent an entire day together without you checking your schedule?”

still nothing.

“when was the last time you called me just because you wanted to hear my voice?”

that one hit home, you watched her posture sag, her head dropping as the fight began to drain out of her inch by inch, because she didn’t have an answer, she genuinely didn’t know, and that realization clearly terrified her.

“i don’t know.” the confession was barely audible.

it was exactly what you expected, because rhea was never one to lie about her faults, but apologizing was a wall she hated to cross.

you nodded once, a thick sob catching in your throat. “exactly.”

rhea violently dragged a hand through her short hair, messing it up completely in a gesture of pure desperation and self-frustration.

“i’ve been busy, alright? i’m trying.”

“i know.”

“i’m fucking trying!” she repeated, her voice cracking as she stepped closer, looking at you with wild, lost eyes. “then what the hell do you want me to do right now?”

for the first time all night, the aggression was gone, replaced by a devastating helplessness.

you looked at her, really looked at her, and the tears started flowing freely down your face.

"choose me." your voice came out so softly, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that followed. "just once."

rhea didn't move, she didn't even seem to breathe, her eyes wide as the true weight of the conversation finally settled over her.

for months she’d thought this was an argument about schedules and time management, but it wasn’t, it was about her realizing she had let you feel completely unwanted.

for a long moment, neither of you spoke.

rhea stood motionless in the center of the living room, her chest rising and falling in heavy, ragged gasps, one tattooed hand gripping her hip so tight her knuckles were white.

you could see the internal war raging inside her, the desperate attempt to hold her temper, to push down the ugly truth of what you’d just said.

but the words were out, staining the air between you.

“you make it sound like i stopped caring about you.” she whispered, her voice rough.

“i didn’t say that.”

“that’s exactly what you’re saying!” her voice exploded again, the anger returning as a shield against the pain, the first real crack in her composure.

you wiped angrily at your wet cheeks with the back of your hand. “i’m saying i stopped feeling loved, rhea!”

she narrowed her eyes, pointing a fierce finger at her own chest. “you think i don’t love you? are you fucking serious?”

“i think i don’t know anymore!” you screamed back, the sound ripping from your throat before you could stop it, and the moment it left your mouth, you wished you could swallow it back down.

rhea physically recoiled as if you had struck her across the face.

“wow.” she let out a sharp, nasty laugh, shaking her head. “wow.”

you immediately took a step forward, hands reaching out instinctively. “rhea, that’s not-“

“no!” she snapped, pointing at you aggressively, her finger trembling. “don’t you dare.”

her blue eyes were bright with unshed tears now, rhea rarely cried, only when the pressure became too immense before a massive fight, and never where anyone could see.

knowing you had pushed her to this brink made your stomach twist into knots.

“don’t do that thing where you say something completely fucked up and then try to take it back because you feel bad.”

your chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. “i didn’t mean it like that.”

“then how the fuck did you mean it?” she demanded, stepping right into your personal space, her breathing hot against your face.

you opened your mouth, but your throat clicked shut, nothing came out.

you were just too tired, too broken, too drained to keep filtering your words to protect her pride.

she took a deep, shaky breath, looking up at the ceiling for a brief second before locking her gaze back onto you, her expression turning bitter. “you know what?”

she nodded to herself, a cruel, mocking gesture. “maybe i should’ve seen this coming.”

you frowned, your heart sinking further. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

she laughed again, a dark sound that made your stomach physically turn. “nothing i ever did was ever enough for you, was it?”

your eyes widened in shock. “that’s not true, rhea!”

“isn’t it?”

“no!”

“really?” she mocked, her voice dripping with heavy sarcasm as she threw her hands up. “because from where i’m standing, all i’ve heard from you for the last six months is a running list of everything i’m doing wrong.”

you stared at her, completely speechless, horrified by how she was twisting your loneliness into a attack.

“i missed one fucking dinner.” she growled.

now you actually laughed, a sharp, hysterical, disbelieving sound that broke through your tears. “one dinner? rhea, you forgot my birthday!”

silence slammed into the room.

“you completely forgot our anniversary.”

another heavy silence, her jaw twitching.

“you left me sitting alone in a restaurant for two hours because you got caught up at the gym.”

rhea snapped her gaze away, looking at the floor.

but the floodgates were open, months of suffocating hurt pouring out of you and you couldn’t stop it.

“you stopped calling me when you landed.” your breathing was becoming completely uneven now, rapid and shallow. “you stopped asking how my day was, you stopped looking at me when i spoke to you.”

“i was working!” rhea roared the words, the sheer volume of her voice making both of you freeze.

it echoed violently through the apartment, vibrating in your bones. “i was trying to build a fucking future for us!”

“and i was trying to build a life with you here!” you screamed back, your chest heaving as you gestured wildly around the empty apartment.

“what did you want me to do?” she demanded, stepping closer, her face dark with fury. “you want me to just quit? walk away from everything i worked for?”

“i wanted you to care!”

“i did care, you asshole!”

“then why did i always feel like a fucking burden to you?”

rhea rolled her eyes violently, turning her back to you. “oh my god, you’re acting like i completely abandoned you on the street!”

you froze, completely shocked by how easily she brushed off your pain. “that’s exactly what it felt like.”

“for fuck’s sake!” rhea whirled around, throwing both hands into the air in total exasperation. “i can’t win with you, i can never fucking win!”

“did you ever even try?” you asked, your voice dropping to a broken whisper.

she spun back toward you so fast her hair whipped across her face, her eyes wide and dangerous. “what?”

her voice had dropped to a frighteningly calm, low register that felt infinitely worse than the shouting.

“rhea-“

“no.” she stepped in until she was inches away, her blue eyes drilling into yours. “say that again, say i didn’t try.”

your heart was hammering against your ribs now, too fast, too hard, a full panic rising in your throat.

“that’s not what i-“

“say it!” she barked.

you shook your head violently, backing up until the back of your legs hit the couch, suddenly terrified of the sheer volatility of the room, you didn’t want the fight anymore, you just wanted it to end.

“i spent every single day throwing myself into this.” rhea hissed through clenched teeth, her body rigid. “and apparently none of it mattered to you.”

“it’s what you meant.” you whispered, your vision blurring completely as tears flooded your eyes.

you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs, every inhale felt tight, your hands were shaking uncontrollably and the room felt suffocatingly hot, closing in on you.

rhea was still talking, her mouth moving, her expression twisted in anger and hurt, but the words were starting to turn into a dull roar in your ears.

you pressed a trembling hand against your sternum, trying to force your chest to expand, trying to stop the panic attack from clawing its way up.

it wasn’t working.

“i can’t-“ your voice cracked, completely broken.

rhea stopped instantly, her aggressive posture freezing. “what?”

another ragged breath, too fast, too shallow, an actual physical pain blooming in your chest.

“i can’t do this anymore.”

“hey.” all the fury vanished from her face in a fraction of a second, replaced by pure alarm.

she took a sudden step toward you, reaching out.

you slapped her hand away, stepping sideways. “don’t!”

the word came out as a strangled sob, you were crying openly now, your shoulders shaking violently as the emotional exhaustion completely broke you down.

“i can’t keep having this exact same fight, i can’t keep begging for scraps of your attention.”

rhea looked completely devastated, her hands hovering uselessly in the air between you.

“baby—”

“don’t.” your voice splintered. “please, just don’t.”

you wrapped your arms around your middle, squeezing tight just to keep yourself upright on your feet.

“i love you, rhea, i do.” the admission felt like a knife twisting in your own gut. “but i can’t live like this anymore.”

rhea looked as though the air had been entirely punched out of her lungs, you watched the exact second the reality of the situation broke through her defenses, this wasn’t a standard argument, you weren’t trying to teach her a lesson or extract an apology.

you were completely broken, and you were done.

“don’t say that.” her voice cracked, a sound so fragile it nearly destroyed whatever resolve you had left.

you shook your head, the tears flying from your cheeks.

“i have to.”

“no, you don’t.”

“i have to, demi.”

“no!” the word burst from her, a desperate, heartbroken sound as she gripped her own hair.

you squeezed your eyes shut, another heavy sob tearing from your throat, and finally forced out the words that would change everything.

“i think we need to break up.”

the world seemed to stop spinning, rhea didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t seem to even blink.

“you’re just upset right now.” she said quickly, her voice trembling.

“i am.”

“you’re just being emotional.”

you let out a weak, pathetic laugh through your tears, wiping your nose with your sleeve. “i think that’s pretty fucking obvious.”

“then stop.” she pleaded, stepping closer, her hands reaching out to frantically grab your forearms. “stop talking like this, just pause.”

your heart shattered completely at the desperation in her touch, because you knew what she wanted, she wanted to push this into tomorrow, to pretend it was just a bad night, to ask for another chance you didn’t have the strength to give.

“i’ve been thinking about this for months, rhea.”

rhea froze, her grip loosening on your arms as her face went completely pale.

“months?”

you nodded, completely unable to look her in the eyes.

“i didn’t just wake up today and decide to end our relationship.”

she looked genuinely horrified, a profound hurt washing over her features as she realized how long you had been suffering in total silence right next to her.

“why the hell didn’t you tell me?” she whispered, the question slipping out before she could stop it.

and the moment it did, the silence answered for you, your eyes closed, and rhea’s head dropped as the truth hit her, you had told her, over and over, in tears, in quiet comments, in the lonely sighs she’d ignored for months.

her entire body slumped, her broad shoulders collapsing inward as she let go of you completely.

“fuck.” the word was barely a breath.

you watched her swallow hard, her eyes staring blankly at the floorboards between your feet before she looked back up, a sudden, frantic energy taking over her again.

“okay.” she nodded rapidly, her hands gesturing wildly as if she could piece the shattered glass back together. “okay, listen to me.”

you frowned, stepping back.

rhea aggressively stepped with you, refusing to let the distance grow.

“i’ll fix it, alright? i swear to god i’ll fix it.”

your chest tightened painfully. “rhea, don’t do this-“

“i mean it!” she spoke incredibly fast, her hands coming up to cup your face, her palms warm and trembling against your wet cheeks. “i’ll call you every single day, i’ll make creative give me time off, i’ll stop cancelling on you, i’ll do whatever the fuck you need me to do, just please.”

you squeezed your eyes shut against the touch of her hands, because hearing these desperate promises now felt like a cruel joke compared to the months of empty silence.

“please.” she whispered against your forehead, her voice breaking completely. “don’t do this to us.”

rhea stayed there, her hands holding your face, waiting for you to melt, waiting for you to tell her that it was enough to make you stay.

when you didn’t move, when you didn’t wrap your arms around her, her hands slowly dropped from your face, her expression fracturing from desperation into confusion, then bitter frustration, then deep hurt.

“what?” she breathed.

you couldn’t answer her properly because the truth felt too malicious, you were just too far gone, too exhausted, and promises didn’t hold any weight after a hundred broken ones.

“i don’t know if i believe you anymore.” the words came out quietly, but they hit her like a physical blow, rhea actually stepped back, her eyes widening.

“you don’t believe me.”

you hated the hollow, broken tone in her voice, it felt like watching a tower collapse.

“rhea…”

“you don’t fucking believe me?” her voice rose again, the anger flaring back up as a desperate defense mechanism against the agony in her chest. “after everything we’ve been through together? you think i’m lying to you?”

your throat tightened until it burned. “it’s not about that.”

“then what the fuck is it about?” she yelled, throwing her hands wildly into the air, the volatile frustration flooding right back into the room. “because right now it sounds like you already made up your mind before i even walked through that door!”

you didn’t answer, you just stood there, letting the silence confirm it.

rhea stared at you, her chest heaving, begging you with her eyes to deny it, to fight back, to do anything except give up.

but you couldn’t.

finally, she let out a harsh, bitter laugh that ended in a choked sound, shaking her head as she looked away.

“wow.”

you immediately looked up, reaching a hand out out of instinct. “don’t do that, don’t pull away like that.”

“no.” she snapped, violently waving your hand off as she turned her back to you completely. “it’s fine, whatever.”

“it’s not fine, rhea.”

“clearly it is for you.”

the heavy steel walls were going right back up, you could practically see them slamming down one by one, the exact same defenses she’d hidden behind all night, the same ones that had slowly suffocated your relationship.

“rhea, please look at me.”

“what?” she whirled around, her voice snapping like a whip, sharp enough to make you flinch backward.

she caught herself, a flash of deep guilt crossing her face, followed immediately by an intense anger at herself for losing control.

she shook her head violently, looking at the corner of the room, completely unable to meet your eyes because she knew if she did, the breakdown would be total.

“you know what?” she nodded to herself, a small, broken movement of her chin. “if you’ve already decided to throw this away…”

her voice cracked hard on the last word, and she cleared her throat aggressively, trying to force the vulnerability back down. “then fine, okay.”

you stopped breathing, your heart freezing in your chest.

rhea swallowed hard, her eyes scanning the floor, the couch, the cold dinner on the table, anywhere except your face.

“if breaking up is what you want.” she whispered, taking one final, ragged breath that shook her entire frame, then shrugged her broad shoulders with a forced indifference that looked entirely painful. “then i guess we’re fucking breaking up.”

and somehow, hearing her violent pride finally give in and say it out loud hurt infinitely more than saying it yourself.

moving out hurt more than the breakup.

you had decided that you couldn’t be there anymore, not even if you just ignored her. it was impossible to breathe in that space.

so you called your friend and coworker, anna.

you felt ashamed of asking if she could let you stay there for awhile, at least until you found a new house, your voice trembling over the line as you picked at your fingernails.

but she just accepted, immediately, cutting off your apologies with a soft reassurance and luckily she also was there to help you process everything, physically anchoring you when the reality threatened to pull you under.

this part was hurting you more than ever.

at least during the breakup, rhea had looked at you. she’d been angry, frustrated, defensive, heartbroken. there had still been something there, some kind of fiery connection tying you together in the middle of the wreckage.

now there was just silence, cold and heavy.

the apartment didn’t even feel like yours anymore as you packed. every room felt haunted by something, by her heavy combat boots abandoned carelessly by the door, by her oversized hoodies hanging over dining room chairs, by the black mug she always used sitting half-washed in the dishwasher.

you found yourself standing in the middle of the bedroom more than once, hands gripping an empty cardboard box, completely forgetting what you’d even walked in there to grab.

everything reminded you of her.

the black hoodie folded on the edge of the bed, the tangled charger on her nightstand, the heavy glass bottle of cologne in the bathroom that still smelled faintly of woodsmoke and leather.

you hated it.

hated that even after everything, you still had to physically stop your own hands from reaching for things that belonged to her.

anna barely left your side the entire day.

she helped carry the heaviest boxes, helped fold your clothes with meticulous care, helped distract you by shoving random objects into your hands when she caught you staring blankly at the same empty drawer for ten minutes.

neither of you mentioned the fact that your eyes were bloodshot and raw, or that you’d disappeared into the bathroom three separate times just to press a towel against your face and cry where nobody could hear you.

rhea wasn’t home, she’d left long before sunrise for a grueling string of media appearances.

part of you was relieved, your chest relaxing slightly without her physical presence looming over you, but the other part kept glancing toward the front door anyway, your shoulders tensing at every distant sound in the hallway.

stupidly hoping she’d walk in, slam the door, stop you, say something, anything to break the quiet.

she never did.

and by the time the last taped box was loaded into the back of anna’s car, the apartment looked unfamiliar, completely stripped and empty.

like you’d never lived there at all, like the last few years had been completely erased.

anna drove with one hand resting firmly on the steering wheel and the other resting open on the center console, right beside yours.

every now and then she’d slide her fingers over and squeeze your knuckles, a steady, grounded pressure.

you never realized how much pure comfort could exist in such a small, silent gesture.

you cried quietly most of the drive, pressing your forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window, staring out at the blurred highway and pretending you weren’t falling apart.

she never called attention to it, never forced you to explain the ragged breaths escaping your throat.

and somehow that made you feel grateful for having her even more, your fingers tightening around hers in the quiet of the car.

the first time you saw rhea again was two weeks later.

you’d been dreading it since the moment you locked the apartment door for the last time, because unlike most breakups, there was absolutely no avoiding each other.

you worked together every single week, every show, every television taping, every live event.

and no amount of mutual heartbreak changed the production schedule.

you were already setting up your station, organizing shadows and laying out clean sponges, when her name appeared black and bold on the talent lineup clipboard.

your stomach dropped immediately, a cold wave of nausea hitting you so fast your fingers twitched, dropping a blending brush onto the counter.

anna noticed before you could even mask your expression.

of course she did.

she glanced down at the clipboard, her eyes scanning the list, then looked up at you with her brows furrowed in concern. “want me to swap stations with you?”

you stared at the name typed out on the paper.

rhea ripley.

the letters blurred together, swimming under the harsh backstage fluorescent lights.

you looked away quickly, shaking your head as you forced yourself to pick up the dropped brush. “no.”

anna didn’t look convinced, her arms crossing over her chest as she watched you. “you sure about that?”

you weren’t, not even close, but you nodded anyway, because avoiding her felt worse somehow, like admitting defeat.

because the ugly, humiliating truth was that you missed her, which was pathetic and entirely degrading after the way things ended.

but it was completely unavoidable.

about twenty minutes later she walked into the makeup room.

you knew it was her before you even risked looking up from your vanity mirror.

the entire room changed whenever rhea entered it, the atmosphere shifting, growing heavier, more charged. it always had.

there was the familiar, heavy thud of her thick boots against the concrete floor, the low, gravelly rumble of her voice as she greeted a producer near the entrance, and the sharp, booming laughter that followed.

your chest tightened immediately, the air leaving your lungs in a sudden rush.

when you finally forced your eyes upward, she was standing across the room, leaning back against a equipment case while talking to one of the creative writers.

black cargo pants hung low on her hips, a massive oversized grey hoodie swallowed her frame, her messy black hair was tucked carelessly behind one ear, and her tattooed hands were shoved deep into her pockets.

she looked exactly the same, yet completely different, wrapped in an aura that felt entirely closed off from you.

for a fraction of a second, as her head turned, your eyes met across the crowded room.

just a single second.

rhea looked away first, her gaze sliding past yours smoothly, not because it seemed to hurt her, not because she couldn’t handle looking at you. just because she didn’t seem remotely interested in holding your gaze anymore.

that hurt more, way more than the shouting ever had.

you looked down quickly, your face burning as you pretended to reorganize a row of lip liners that were already perfectly aligned, your hands shaking so badly you had to press your palms flat against the counter to hide it, pretending your heart wasn’t trying to punch its way right out of your ribs.

a few minutes later, the heavy shadow of her body fell over your station, and she sank into your chair.

the exact same high-backed chair she’d sat in hundreds of times before.

except now she sat differently, her posture stiffer, leaning much further back with her face already buried in her phone.

every line of her body language screamed that she was creating distance on purpose, a physical wall built between your personal spaces.

you pressed your lips together into a tight, thin line, your fingers cold as you reached for the specific bottle of foundation you always used on her skin. “morning.”

your voice sounded incredibly small, swallowed up by the noise of the bustling room.

she didn’t even glance up from the glowing screen in her hand, her thumb scrolling rapidly. “morning.”

that was it.

nothing else, no familiar smirk, no low 'hey' that used to make your stomach flip, no asking how your week had been, not even a glance toward your face.

just one flat, icy word.

you felt your stomach sink into a hollow void.

the silence stretched painfully between you as you stepped closer, your thigh brushing slightly against the arm of her chair as you reached up.

normally she would’ve been talking your ear off, complaining loudly about the early morning flight, telling you ridiculous stories from the road, asking exactly what you’d eaten for breakfast, stealing snacks from your side table, kissing the inside of your wrists, or teasing you relentlessly just to watch you blush as you told her to stay still.

now she just sat there like a statue, scrolling through social media, occasionally tapping out a text with a sharp click of her tongue, shifting slightly in her seat whenever you had to tilt her chin.

acting like you weren’t even there at all, acting like your bare hands weren’t brushing against her jaw, her cheekbones, her temples every few seconds.

like she’d never held those same hands against her chest, like she’d never kissed them in the quiet of your old bedroom.

you focused entirely on the blending, staring at the skin beneath her eyes because if you looked at the blue of her irises for too long, you were absolutely certain you’d start crying, and crying while doing a top superstar's television makeup was completely unprofessional.

“look up.” the words came out automatically, a mechanical reflex of the job.

rhea complied immediately, her chin tilting back as her blue eyes lifted directly toward yours.

for one horrible, suffocating second, your hands froze, and you completely forgot how to draw breath into your lungs.

then her eyes dropped right back down to her lap, the screen lit up again, and the phantom moment was gone.

when you finally finished setting the powder, she stood up abruptly, shoving her phone into her cargo pocket and leaning forward to briefly check her reflection in the glass.

“thanks.”

and then she turned and walked away, her heavy boots clicking against the floor as she vanished into the hallway.

just like that.

you stood frozen, holding a powder puff in your hand, staring at the empty doorway for a long, quiet time.

anna walked over, stopping right beside you and looking at your pale face. “you okay?”

you immediately busied yourself, aggressively wiping down the counter and slamming brushes into their cleaning jars. “fine.”

anna let out a sharp, cynical snort, crossing her arms.

neither of you believed that for a single second.

the worst part wasn’t that rhea ignored you.

the worst part was that she didn’t ignore anybody else.

she laughed with everybody, talked with everybody, joked with everybody.

you’d be cleaning brushes or organizing products at your station and hear her booming voice carrying from somewhere down the hall, hear her laugh, hear somebody laughing back, and every single time it felt like somebody twisting a rusty knife into your ribs.

because where had that version of her gone, the version that used to laugh with you until her eyes watered, the version that used to text you stupid memes at three in the morning from a random hotel bed, the version that used to climb into bed and immediately reach out to pull you against her chest?

one afternoon you were restocking your makeup kit when familiar laughter echoed across the crowded catering room.

your head lifted automatically before you could stop yourself, your hands freezing over a row of eyeshadow palettes.

rhea was standing across the room surrounded by a few of the girls from the roster, laughing, actually laughing, her head tilted back slightly and one tattooed arm resting casually against the metal counter.

she looked completely relaxed, comfortable, happy.

your stomach twisted so hard it almost physically hurt because she hadn’t smiled at you once since the breakup, not a single time, yet there she was pouring out smiles for everybody else.

anna appeared beside you without warning, her shoulder bumping yours as she followed your miserable gaze immediately. “don’t.”

you looked away quickly, dropping your head, but it was already too late.

anna let out a soft sigh, resting a hand on your arm. “you’re torturing yourself.”

maybe she was right, but that didn’t stop the white-hot jealousy or the suffocating hurt, or the awful little voice in your head whispering the same cruel thing every night.

maybe she was okay, maybe she was moving on, and maybe the only person still stuck in the smoking wreckage of your relationship was you.

by the third week, you thought you had finally figured out how to survive being around rhea again.

not move on, because that felt completely impossible, but survive.

you knew exactly which hallways she usually took backstage and which catering table she liked sitting at, you knew how to keep your eyes locked on your makeup kit instead of searching every room for her the second you walked in, you knew how to smile and act normal when production assistants asked how you were doing.

you were getting really good at pretending.

that morning had started like every other one, too early, too little sleep, and a lingering ache in your chest that seemed to follow you like a shadow these days.

anna had driven the two of you to the arena while rambling about something one of the producers had done the night before, and you tried listening, you really did, but your mind kept drifting, it always drifted back to her.

by noon the backstage area was complete chaos, people rushing from room to room, production assistants running around with clipboards, wrestlers moving through the corridors in different stages of hair and makeup.

you were cleaning your blending brushes when a floor manager popped his head in and told you rhea was next on the schedule.

your stomach sank immediately, a familiar cold weight dropping into your gut.

it was ridiculous that she could still affect you like that after weeks, but you took a deep breath, flattening your palms against the table, and reminded yourself it was just work, nothing more.

a few minutes later she walked in, and she was already fully dressed in her gear.

she was wearing a sleeveless black and purple leather vest, completely covered in silver studs and spikes on the shoulders. underneath, she had on a shiny black top with silver chains crossing over her chest, leaving her stomach bare. that vision alone was enough to make you flustered.

the matching black leather shorts she wore were decorated with a silver studded trim, thin garter straps wrapped around her muscular thighs, and dark fishnet stockings.

her combat boots hit the floor with steady, familiar thuds as she crossed the room, looking championship ready long before the cameras were even turned on.

her dark hair was pulled back loosely, damp strands escaping around her face, and the silver ring through her septum caught the bright vanity lights every time she turned her head.

there was already that fierce intensity in her blue eyes that always seemed to appear on show days.

for a second she looked exactly like the woman everybody else saw, rhea ripley, the superstar, the champion, not the woman who left her boots by the front door, not the woman who used to steal food right off your plate, not the woman who used to pull you onto her lap while you watched movies together.

just rhea, distant, untouchable, and completely out of reach.

she didn’t look at you when she sank into the high-backed chair, didn’t say hello, didn’t acknowledge your existence at all as she pulled out her phone.

you hated that part the most, like everything that had ever happened between you had somehow become completely meaningless, and what you hated even more was the fact that it was becoming normal.

you expected her not to greet you now, you expected the ice.

you started working quietly, the room falling silent except for the occasional, aggressive tapping of her fingernails against her phone screen.

every now and then your eyes would betray you and linger for a second too long on her skin, tracing the familiar curve of her jaw, the tattoos disappearing beneath the black leather gear, the scent of her perfume that you knew she carefully chose for show nights to bring her luck.

it all felt so painfully familiar.

you were reaching for another brush when it slipped from your trembling fingers, hitting the counter with a loud clatter before bouncing off rhea’s thigh and dropping onto the floor between her boots.

rhea immediately looked up, her eyebrows pulled together, already visibly irritated. “careful.”

you froze, your cheeks burning instantly under the lights. “sorry.”

you quickly bent down to grab it from the floor, but before you could even straighten back up, she let out a heavy, aggressive sigh that made something twist painfully inside your chest.

“can we just get through this?”

the words weren’t even yelled, but they hit harder than shouting ever could because of the way she spat them out, like being around you was an absolute chore, like you were a problem she wanted solved as quickly as possible so she could leave.

you couldn’t even look her in the eye.

“yes, sorry.” you whispered it again, your throat tightening so much it felt physical.

rhea snapped her gaze away before you even finished speaking, her thumb flying back to her phone screen, back to pretending you didn’t exist.

you somehow managed to finish her makeup without letting a single tear fall, you weren’t even sure how your hands stayed steady enough to do it.

the second she stood up and left the room, though, you knew you couldn’t stay there for another second.

your vision was already blurring, your hands shaking violently against your legs.

you muttered something to anna about needing a minute and slipped out the side door, ducking into one of the empty dressing rooms down the dark hallway.

the door clicked shut behind you, bringing silence, finally.

you made it three steps into the room before the tears started spilling over.

you slid down the wall, sitting on the floor with your back against the hard surface, and buried your face deeply in your hands.

it was stupid, you knew it was stupid, people went through breakups every single day, people survived much worse things.

but god, you were tired, so incredibly tired of missing her, tired of seeing her face, tired of pretending she didn’t matter, tired of acting okay when every single show day felt like reopening the exact same wound.

you stayed on the floor until your breathing finally slowed down, until your eyes stopped burning and you could look in the mirror without completely falling apart.

when you finally left the dressing room, you wiped your face and told yourself you were done crying for the day.

you should’ve known better.

a few hours later you were heading down the production corridor toward catering when you heard her distinctive laugh echoing near the loading docks.

the sound stopped you dead in your tracks.

without meaning to, your eyes lifted, and there she was, still fully geared up, looking completely at home beneath the bright arena lights while standing near one of the large production trucks with another girl from the roster.

they were talking about something you couldn’t hear over the distant hum of the crowd, but the other girl said something that made rhea smile.

a real smile, not the polite, professional ones she’d been giving everyone else lately, but an actual, genuine smile, the kind you hadn’t seen on her face in months.

your stomach dropped into a hollow pit.

you watched rhea lean her shoulder slightly closer as she listened, watched the other girl playfully bump against her, watched rhea laugh again, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

for a second, neither of them seemed aware that anyone else in the arena even existed.

something deep inside you shattered because suddenly all the pieces started fitting together in the worst, most terrifying way possible.

every cancelled dinner, every forgotten phone call, every single time she’d looked annoyed when you asked for more of her time, every argument, every excuse.

what if it had never been about work, what if it had never been about her being too busy or overwhelmed by creative?

what if she simply didn’t love you anymore?

the thought made you feel physically sick, a wave of heat rising up your neck.

you looked away immediately, your heart pounding wildly against your ribs, because you knew if you kept staring at them, you might actually lose your mind right there in the hallway.

all afternoon the toxic idea followed you around, refusing to leave.

maybe she hadn’t been pulling away because she was struggling with the pressure, maybe she had been pulling away because she was completely done with you.

done with the relationship, done with trying, done with everything.

maybe she wanted somebody who understood her world better, somebody who spent their entire life on the road too, somebody who understood the travel and the constant chaos without needing any explanations.

not a makeup artist who waited at home in an empty apartment, not a girlfriend who wanted dinners and date nights and phone calls, not somebody who complained about being lonely.

the thought made your chest physically ache because for the first time since the breakup, you found yourself wondering if you’d gotten it all wrong.

maybe rhea hadn’t stopped showing up because she was drowning in work, maybe she’d stopped showing up because she’d already checked out long before you ever said the words.

it happened on a friday.

you hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, you were just looking for another production staff member because one of the directors had been asking for them, and after checking catering and the main makeup room, you figured they’d probably be near gorilla position.

the backstage corridor was mostly empty, just the distant sounds of production crews moving heavy metal equipment and the muffled, thumping noise of the arena crowd beyond the heavy curtain.

you were halfway down the concrete corridor when you heard a familiar, raspy voice.

rhea.

your feet slowed down automatically, stupidly, the instinct taking over like it always did whenever she was near. you should’ve kept walking, you knew you should have, but then you heard another voice, one of the main girls from the roster, and then you heard your own name drop from her lips.

you froze completely, backing into the shadow of a partially open equipment room doorway, the metal edge pressing into your spine.

they were right around the corner, close enough that you could hear every single breath, far enough that they couldn’t see you standing there.

your stomach tightened into a hard knot immediately.

“have you talked to her at all?”

silence followed the question, long enough that you almost thought rhea was going to just ignore her and walk away.

then you heard her let out a long, ragged sigh. “no.”

another heavy pause stretched out.

“why not?”

you shouldn’t have stayed, you knew it was pathetic, but your feet wouldn’t move from the floorboards, they simply wouldn’t obey you.

you stood there in the dark with your heart hammering violently against your ribs, just waiting.

“because there’s no fucking point.”

the sheer finality in her voice hit you so hard you physically flinched against the doorframe.

the other woman sounded genuinely confused. “what do you mean there’s no point, rhea?”

rhea let out a quiet laugh, except it didn’t sound like her usual laugh, it sounded entirely bitter, hollowed out and empty. “because i already fucked it up completely.”

your chest tightened, making it hard to draw air.

“rhea-“

“no, i did.” her voice was firm, sharp, like she’d repeated it to herself a thousand times. “i had months, i had months to actually sit there and listen to her, months to show up when she asked me to.”

she let out another short, humorless laugh that sounded dangerously close to a choke. “and i just kept acting like she’d eventually get over it, like it wasn’t a big deal.”

you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, the darkness behind your eyelids immediately bringing back the memory of your kitchen table, the cold dinner, every single argument where you’ve tried to explain how badly you were drowning in the quiet of that apartment.

“i thought i had all the time in the world.” the words came out barely above a whisper, so quiet you almost missed them over the arena noise. “and then suddenly i didn’t.”

your eyes immediately filled with hot tears, blurring the concrete floor.

you hated that, hated how quickly, how effortlessly she could still completely break you down with a few words.

the other woman sighed softly. “then just go talk to her, demi.”

rhea went quiet for several long seconds, and when she finally spoke again, her voice sounded smaller somehow, stripped of all the aggression and confidence, less like the champion everybody saw on television. “why?”

“because you’re still completely in love with her.” the answer was immediate, leaving no room for doubt.

you held your breath, your hands gripping the fabric of your shirt, desperate, terrified for her response.

there was a suffocating silence around the corner, and for one horrible second, you thought she was going to deny it.

then, “that’s exactly why i can’t.”

your heart stopped beating entirely, the narrow hallway suddenly feeling too small, too hot, too hard to breathe in.

“what?”

“because i fucking love her!” rhea’s voice cracked with a sudden surge of aggressive frustration, frustration directed entirely at herself. “what the hell am i supposed to do, walk up to her face and make everything ten times worse than it already is?”

when the other girl didn’t answer right away, rhea kept going, her boots shifting restlessly on the floor. “every single time i look at her backstage, she looks completely miserable, and i know, i know damn well i’m the exact reason for it.”

the words hit you like a physical punch to the solar plexus. “she deserves so much better than me.”

the sentence came out so quietly it cut right through you.

“demi, you don’t know if-“

“i mean it!” rhea snapped, a sharp, heavy sigh following immediately after, “she deserves somebody who’s actually there, somebody who can actually show up for her.”

your chest physically throbbed with pain because for weeks you had successfully convinced yourself she’d stopped caring, convinced yourself she was relieved to be free of you, convinced yourself she was happier now.

and standing there hidden around a concrete corner like a ghost, you suddenly realized none of it was true.

rhea wasn’t happy.

she wasn’t relieved.

she wasn’t over you at all.

she just thought she had completely ruined you, and that guilt was eating her alive.

before either of them could move, before their heavy boots could round the corner and find you standing there with hot tears running down your face, you turned around.

and you walked away as quietly as you could, your heart pounding against your ribs and your thoughts spinning completely out of control.

because for the first time since the night you walked out, you didn’t know what to believe anymore.

after overhearing that conversation, everything became so much worse. because now you knew or at least you knew enough, enough to understand that rhea hadn’t stopped loving you.

but you didn’t know nearly enough to figure out what to do about it. so nothing changed.

the icy silence remained, the painful distance remained, and navigating the backstage hallways became completely unbearable.

three days later, things finally broke.

you were standing near one of the large production trucks, leaning against a stack of equipment cases while talking to one of the camera operators.

his name was jake.

he was funny, easy to talk to, and unlike most people backstage lately, he wasn’t looking at you with pity, like you were made of glass.

he’d been telling you some ridiculous story about getting locked out of a rental car in his ring-side gear during a live event.

you were laughing despite yourself, really laughing. the kind of deep laugh that made your shoulders shake, the kind you hadn’t done in what felt like an eternity.

jake grinned, pointing a finger. “see? there it is.”

you frowned, wiping a stray tear of mirth from your eye. “what?”

“that smile.”

immediately embarrassed, you rolled your eyes and swatted at the air. “don’t start.”

he laughed. “i’m serious. i haven’t seen you smile in weeks.”

before you could answer, he reached out and lightly nudged your shoulder with his knuckles. it was friendly, completely platonic, nothing more. but somebody else saw it.

rhea.

she was halfway down the concrete corridor when she noticed. you saw her before she realized you had. she was already dress in her gear again, her massive championship belt slung carelessly over one tattooed shoulder, her arms crossed tightly over her leather vest.

she was completely still, just watching you.

the smile disappeared from your face instantly.

rhea’s jaw tightened, her blue eyes narrowing across the distance. for one horrible second she just stood there, staring a hole right through you, before she abruptly turned on the heel of her combat boot and walked away.

you figured that would be the end of it, but damn, you were wrong.

less than twenty minutes later, you were completely alone in one of the private talent makeup rooms, cleaning your blending brushes at the sink, when the heavy door suddenly opened, or rather, slammed.

it hit the stopper hard enough to rattle the vanity mirrors, making you jump and look up fast.

your eyes widened.

rhea.

she stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind her with an ominous finality.

you immediately straightened up, setting a damp brush down on the counter.

you felt your heart beginning to race because something was incredibly wrong.

you could see it in the rigid line of her posture; her jaw was locked, her blue eyes were darker than usual under the harsh fluorescent lights, and her arms were clamped tight over her chest.

she looked absolutely furious.

neither of you spoke.

for a few agonizing seconds she just stood there staring at you, and you hated how easily her sheer physical presence could still make you incredibly nervous.

“what?” the question slipped out of your throat, barely above a whisper.

rhea finally spoke, a sharp smirk pulling at her dark lips, but there was absolutely no humor in it. “what the hell was that?"

you frowned, genuinely confused. "what was what?"

"don't do that." her voice was already rising, echoing off the small room's walls, “don't pretend you don't know exactly what i'm talking about."

confusion mixed with a sudden spike of irritation inside your chest. "demi, what are you talking about?"

“the guy." you froze immediately.

somehow, your silence only seemed to make her look angrier, as if your shock was a direct confirmation of you being in the wrong.

“so?” she challenged, stepping closer.

you couldn’t believe this.

weeks of agonizing silence, weeks of her acting like you didn't even exist in the same building, and now this.

“are you serious right now?"

“answer the question.” she snapped immediately.

you stared at her, your hands curling into fists against the counter. “why?"

rhea scoffed, actually scoffed, looking away toward the ceiling for a second before dragging a hand heavily through her dark hair. "you two were all over each other out there."

you blinked at her, crossing your own arms defensively over your chest. "what?"

“i saw you." you almost laughed, not because it was funny, but because the sheer absurdity of it was overwhelming.

“he touched my shoulder, rhea. that didn’t mean anything." you stared at her, waiting for the logic to hit her, but then something deep inside you completely snapped, land honestly? you don't get to do this."

rhea immediately looked offended, her head tilting back. “do what?"

“this!" you gestured wildly with your hands between the two of you, months of built-up frustration and heartbreak suddenly boiling over, “you don't get to ignore me for weeks, act like i'm a ghost, and then walk in here blowing up and acting jealous!"

she looked you up and down, her chest heaving slightly against her leather top before she spoke. "i'm not jealous."

you let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. "right."

“i'm not."

“okay, demi."

“i'm not," she repeated, her voice dropping a fraction, sounding more like she was desperately trying to convince herself than you.

“then why are you here?" that shut her up completely. for a long second neither of you spoke, because there wasn't an easy answer or at least, not one she was willing to say out loud.

you could see it all over her face: the frustration, the wounded pride, the raw jealousy, all fighting for space behind those blue eyes.

finally, she looked away, her shoulders dropping slightly. "forget it."

she turned back toward the door, and suddenly, the terrifying thought of her walking out that door and resetting the icy clock made something inside your chest completely crack open.

“that's what you always do."

rhea froze, her hand hovering just inches from the metal doorknob.

your voice shook violently, but you couldn't stop now, not anymore. "you get scared, you get upset, and then you just leave.”

slowly, rhea turned back around. the look on her face was no longer furious, it was dangerous, wounded, and entirely exposed.

“you think i wanted any of this?" the words exploded out of her, raw and heavy, “you think i wanted to lose you?"

your heart stopped beating entirely.

she took a heavy step forward, the chains on her gear clinking sharply. "you think i enjoyed coming home to an empty apartment and seeing that you were just... gone? you think any of this shit has been easy for me?" her voice cracked just slightly at the end, a devastating sound that shattered your defenses.

your eyes immediately filled with hot, heavy tears. suddenly she looked angry and completely devastated at the same time, like she was holding her entire world together by sheer brute force.

“then why didn't you fight for me?" the question escaped your lips before you could stop it, a broken cry that had been trapped in your throat for weeks. you stared at her, tears finally spilling over your lashes.

rhea shrugged, her own eyes growing glossy and bright under the vanity lights. "because i thought you fucking hated me."

she said it simply, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world. she let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh, looking away while swallowing hard against the knot that had formed in her throat.

“every single time i saw you backstage after the breakup, you looked like i broke your heart. and i knew i did." she took a deep, shaky breath, her chest expanding, “so i figured... i figured if i just stayed away, if i gave you space, maybe eventually you'd stop hurting."

your chest physically throbbed with pain, because it was so stupid. so painfully, horribly stupid.

months of mutual misery because neither of you had stopped long enough to understand what the other was actually feeling. you had both spent weeks building toxic stories in your heads, convincing yourselves those stories were facts, letting them grow until they became massive concrete walls neither of you knew how to climb over.

for a long moment, neither of you said anything. the makeup room felt layout-quiet, impossibly small. the soft buzzing of the vanity lights and the muffled, distant sounds of production crews moving through the hallway outside seemed miles away.

rhea stood just a few feet from you now, staring down at the floor tiles. her shoulders had lost all of their aggressive tension, the anger she’d carried into the room draining away so completely that she looked almost unsteady without it.

her arms hung loosely at her sides, her tattooed fingers flexing occasionally as if she didn’t know what to do with them now that the armor was cracked.

you wiped at your wet eyes angrily, your voice trembling. “you really thought i hated you?”

rhea let out a quiet breath that sounded almost like a broken laugh, because hearing the question out loud in the quiet room made the whole thing sound completely absurd.

“i don’t know,” she shrugged, but there was no confidence left behind it, just pure uncertainty, “maybe. yeah.”

your eyebrows pulled together, stepping out from behind your station. “rhea.”

she finally looked up, meeting your gaze directly. “what was i supposed to think?” the question wasn’t defensive or angry anymore; it sounded genuinely lost, “you wouldn’t even look at me.”

your mouth fell open in complete shock. “i wouldn’t look at you?”

“yeah.” rhea shook her head slightly, her silver septum ring catching the light, “every time i sat in your chair, every time i walked into a room, you looked like you wanted to be anywhere else in the world.”

you stared at her, completely stunned, because that wasn’t what had been happening at all. not even close.

“because i was trying so hard not to cry.” you admitted, the truth tearing out of you without a filter. silence blanketed the room.

rhea blinked once. then again. the realization hit her so visibly that you could actually watch it happen, watched her features soften, the tight lines around her eyes smoothing out as the pieces she hadn’t understood finally fell into place.

you let out a bitter laugh and looked away, rubbing at your forehead, suddenly feeling an exhaustion that settled deep into your very bones.

“god, this is so ridiculous. you thought i hated you,” another humorless laugh escaped you, “and i thought you couldn’t stand the sight of me.”

rhea’s expression immediately twisted into deep distress. “what?”

you looked back at her, the tears starting fresh, “you snapped at me, demi. you ignored me. you talked and laughed with everybody in catering except me.” your throat tightened until it hurt, “and then... and then i saw you with that girl.”

rhea frowned, her brow furrowing in genuine confusion. “what girl?”

you almost rolled your eyes, wiping your cheek. “the wrestler.”

“which wrestler?”

“rhea, please.”

“what wrestler?!”

“liv.” you muttered, looking down.

rhea stared at you for a blank second, and then realization crossed her face, followed immediately by utter disbelief. “you’re kidding me.”

your stomach dropped slightly. “what?”

rhea dragged a massive, tattooed hand over her face, looking genuinely stunned. “she’s literally dating somebody. she’s been dating someone for almost a year.”

you froze, blinking up at her. “what?”

“nothing was happening,” she said, her voice dropping into a register so gentle it made your chest ache, “baby...”

the old nickname slipped out entirely by accident. neither of you acknowledged it, you couldn’t, because there were too many emotions crashing over the room at once.

your heart twisted painfully. suddenly, all those miserable, sleepless nights at anna’s apartment replayed themselves in your mind.

every single hour you’d spent torturing yourself, convincing yourself she was moving on, comparing yourself to the girls on the roster, writing scripts that weren't even real. all that crushing grief had been built on a foundation that wasn’t even true.

you looked down at your shoes, suddenly feeling incredibly embarrassed, and that vulnerability made the tears flow faster.

“i didn’t know,” your voice cracked heavily, “i just... i thought maybe you wanted somebody who understood your life better. someone on the road.”

the room went completely still.

when you finally looked up, rhea was staring at you, completely heartbroken. the idea had clearly never even occurred to her until this exact moment, and hearing it out loud seemed to hurt her deeper than anything else you’d said.

“you really think that’s why i left?” she whispered.

“i don’t know what to think anymore.” you shook your head, your shoulders trembling.

rhea looked away briefly, running both hands through her dark hair, messing it up the way she always did when she was entirely overwhelmed by emotion.

“i never wanted anybody else,” her voice was quiet, completely steady, “i wanted you. every time you told me you needed more from me back then, all i heard was that i was failing you. that i wasn't good enough.”

you frowned, taking a small step closer to her. “that’s not what i was saying at all.”

“i know,” she answered immediately, looking back up, her jaw tightening, “i know that now. but back then... i don’t know. i kept thinking if i just worked harder, if i got through the next cycle, everything would calm down eventually.”

you remembered it vividly. all those empty promises, after this week, after this show, after this pay-per-view.

always another finish line, always another reason to wait.

“and then every time i came home, you’d be upset,” she continued, her voice completely honest, devoid of any blame, “and i knew you had every right to be. so i just kept avoiding the conflict, and of course... i made it a thousand times worse.”

you couldn’t even argue, because she was entirely right. every avoided conversation had become a deep wound, every silence had grown into a mountain.

outside the room, someone laughed loudly down the corridor, the sound a stark reminder that the world was still moving, entirely unaware that your entire universe was hanging in the balance inside these four walls.

rhea was standing right in front of you now. looking at her closely, you realized just how exhausted she had been carrying this weight alone. neither of you had needed to suffer like this.

you wiped at your face again, letting out a watery laugh as another tear escaped anyway. “i hate this so much.”

rhea’s dark lips twitched, a genuine, soft smile finally breaking through her features, the smile you had starved for, the one that used to greet you at the door, the one that appeared whenever you stole her favorite hoodies, the one that made her look so incredibly soft.

“yeah,” she murmured, her blue eyes locked onto yours. “me too.”

at some point during the conversation, the distance between you had completely shrunk. she was standing mere inches away now, the ambient heat radiating from her body wrapping around you.

rhea looked down briefly, shaking her head. “i was so angry at you.”

the confession caught you off guard.

you blinked. “at me?”

“yeah,” she laughed softly, looking genuinely embarrassed as she rubbed the back of her neck. “every time i saw you.”

“why?”

rhea groaned, dragging her hand down her face again. “because i missed you so damn much. i’d walk into a room, you’d be there, and i’d have to spend the next hour trying look like i didn't care. trying not to look at you.” her eyes searched yours, “which was completely impossible.”

a tiny, real smile finally pulled at your mouth. “you are completely terrible at not looking at people.”

“i know.” she whispered.

a different kind of quiet settled over the room, softer, heavier, and charged with an undeniable gravity. rhea’s smile faded slowly, her breathing hitching as her eyes traced over your face, down to your lips, and back up to your eyes, as if she were trying to memorize every single detail she'd been deprived of.

weeks of agonizing loneliness seemed to crash into you all at once. the quiet nights at anna’s, the cold, empty side of the bed, the muscle memory of wanting to text her, the sheer desperation to just be held by her.

“can i?” rhea’s voice was suddenly incredibly small, her eyes pleading as she hovered just inches away.

you didn’t answer with words, you couldn’t.

instead, you closed the remaining distance, your hands reaching up to grip the lapels of her studded leather vest.

rhea let out a ragged, trembling sigh as her large, tattooed hands instantly came up to frame your face, her thumbs wiping away the remnants of your tears.

she leaned down, and when her lips finally met yours, the restraint they had both held for weeks dissolved into pure, hungry desperation.

the kiss instantly turned fierce, a bruising, breathless collision of lips and teeth that tasted like pure survival.

rhea groaned deep in her throat, a low, possessive sound as she crowded you backward until your spine hit the edge of the vanity counter, scattering a few loose brushes. she didn't care.

her mouth moved against yours with a ravenous, desperate urgency, parting your lips easily to claim you completely, drinking you in like she’d been dying of thirst.

you wrapped your arms tightly around her neck, pulling her down into you, matching her hunger with a frantic intensity of your own.

she pulled you completely flush against her chest, her muscular arms locking around your waist and lifting you slightly off your feet to crush you against her gear.

the silver chains and metal spikes of her vest pressed hard into your skin, but the pain was eclipsed by the heat of her mouth.

rhea’s thumbs dug into your jawline, holding you steady as she deepened the kiss over and over, bruising your lips, completely consuming you until your head spun from the lack of oxygen.

when she finally dragged her mouth away just an inch, her breath was a hot, ragged gasp against your skin, her forehead resting heavily against yours.

she didn't loosen her iron grip on your waist for even a fraction of a second, her chest heaving violently against yours as if she were terrified that if she let go, the illusion would shatter.

“i’m sorry,” rhea rasped, her voice completely broken and rough as she pressed another hard, desperate kiss to the corner of your mouth, “i’m so fucking sorry. i'm never letting you go again.”

you let out a shaky, trembling breath, burying your face directly into the warm crook of her neck, your fingers tightly knotted in the dark hair at the nape of her neck.

“don’t,” you choked out, your body still vibrating from the sheer force of her, “just stay.”