The streetlight flickers back to life, and I wish it hadn't.
Simon's face is fully visible now—the devastation written across his features, the tears he's not bothering to hide, the ring on his finger catching the light like a blade.
He looks at me with an expression that's begging for understanding, for forgiveness, for something I don't have left to give.
"It was the only way. The gym, my family—Gordon, you have to understand. Naomi's father was the only option."
His voice comes out hollow, scraped raw.
"Every lender in the city turned us down. Every bank, every investor, everyone. And then Chen Capital stepped in with an offer that could save everything—my parents' retirement, their life's work, the building they've owned for thirty years."
"And the price was you." The words taste like acid. "The price was marrying his daughter."
"He wanted assurance. Commitment. Proof that this wasn't just a business arrangement, that our families were going to be connected in a way that couldn't be undone."
Simon's hands are shaking as he runs them through his hair.
"He gave me forty-eight hours to accept or watch my parents lose everything. Forty-eight hours, Gordon. And I tried to reach you—I tried so fucking hard…"
"You're engaged."
My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. Someone standing outside my body, watching this scene unfold from a great distance.
"You proposed to Naomi while I was gone. You got down on one knee, or however you did it, and you asked her to marry you. While I was stuck on a mountain with no signal, you were putting a ring on her finger."
"I couldn't reach you! I called you fifty times, Gordon. I texted every hour."
Simon's voice breaks, desperation bleeding through.
"I drove to your apartment three times, I asked your father where you were, I did everything I could think of. And you were just… gone. No response, no way to reach you, no indication that you even still…"
"Still what?" I step closer, fury finally breaking through the numbness. "Still cared? Still wanted you? You thought because I didn't answer my phone for three days that I'd just given up on us?"
"I didn't know what to think! You'd been pulling away for weeks—ever since Naomi showed up, you'd been different. Suspicious, jealous, always assuming the worst. And then you left for that trip, and you told me you needed space, and when I couldn't reach you..."
He trails off, voice cracking.
"I thought maybe you'd realized I wasn't worth it. That you'd decided the complications were too much, that being with someone who was still figuring himself out was too hard. I thought you'd left me, Gordon."
"So you gave up." The words slice through the space between us. "You gave up on us because I didn't answer my phone for three days. Three days, Simon. That's all it took for you to decide that everything we'd built wasn't worth fighting for."
"That's not fair."
"Fair? You want to talk about fair? I spent three years loving you in silence."
Something shatters inside me—something that had only just started to heal, something fragile and precious that I'd been protecting since the moment he showed up on my doorstep.
"Three years watching you date women, hearing you talk about your type, standing right next to you while you had no idea I existed as anything more than your best bro. And when I finally got to be with you in a way that was real, you threw it away the first time things got hard."
"I didn't throw it away! I'm standing here, aren't I? I came to tell you myself because I couldn't let you find out any other way. I'm trying to explain, trying to make you understand."
"Understand what? That your family's gym is more important than I am? That Naomi's money means more than my love? That when push came to shove, you chose the path that made sense over the person who made you feel?"
"You don't get to lecture me about choices. You, of all people, don't get to stand there and accuse me of betrayal. You lied to me for six months, Gordon."
Simon's voice hardens, and I see something shift in his eyes. The desperation calcifying into something defensive, something sharp.
"You created a fake person, made me fall in love with her, let me pour my heart out to someone who didn't exist. You want to talk about trust? We never had trust. We had a foundation built on manipulation, and maybe this was always how it was going to end."
The words land like physical blows. I stagger back a step, wounded in ways I didn't know I could still be wounded.
"Don't you dare." My voice shakes with fury. "Don't you dare use Kira as an excuse for what you did. I told you the truth. I confessed everything, and you said you forgave me, you said we could figure it out together, you said—"
"I said a lot of things! Because I was confused, and you were there, and it was easier to fall into something complicated than to deal with what your deception actually did to me."
Simon's crying now, tears streaming down his face, but his words are relentless.
"Do you have any idea what it's like to realize that the person you fell in love with was a lie? That every intimate moment, every vulnerable confession, every time I thought I was being truly seen—was it all part of a game you were playing?"
"It wasn't a game! I loved you, I've always loved you!"
"You loved the idea of having me. You loved being Kira because she got to have what Gordon never could. But that's not the same as loving me, Gordon. That's using me to fill a hole in yourself."
"And Naomi? Is she filling a hole too? Or is she just convenient—the easy answer to a complicated question, the woman who fits into your life without requiring you to actually change anything about who you are?"
"At least she's honest! At least when I'm with her, I know exactly who I'm talking to!"
Simon shouts.
"I don't have to wonder if the person in front of me is real or if it's another avatar, another mask, another version of Gordon Hayes designed to manipulate me into feeling things I didn't choose to feel!"
We're both crying now, both shaking, both bleeding from cuts that won't show on our skin but will scar us forever.
The parking lot feels like a battlefield, bodies scattered around us even though we're the only ones standing. Every vulnerability has become a weapon. Every tender moment has become ammunition.
We've torn each other apart with the precision of people who know exactly where the wounds are—because we do. Because we've spent months mapping each other's weaknesses, cataloging soft spots, learning how to hurt each other in ways no one else could.
"I have to go through with it. The papers are signed, my parents are already celebrating."
Simon's voice drops, exhaustion replacing anger.
"My mother cried when I told her—actually cried with happiness, Gordon. I can't take that away from them, can't watch them lose everything because I was too selfish to do what needed to be done."
"Then go."
My voice comes out dead. Empty. The voice of someone who's already given up.
"Go marry her. Have the life that makes sense. Be the Simon Hale everyone expects you to be—the golden boy, the good son, the man who always does the right thing. I'm sure you'll be very happy together."
"Gordon, please…"
"No." I step back as he reaches for me. "You don't get to touch me. You don't get to hold me and tell me it's going to be okay when you're wearing her ring on your finger. You made your choice. Now live with it."
"I love you." The words come out as a whisper, broken and desperate. "That part was never a lie. Whatever else I've done, whatever mistakes I've made—I love you. I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you, and I don't know how to stop."
I look at him for a long moment. This man I've loved for three years, who finally loved me back, who's now standing in a parking lot telling me he's going to marry someone else.
"Then I guess you'll have to figure it out." My voice doesn't waver. "Because I can't be the person you love in secret while you build a life with someone else. I spent three years invisible, Simon. I'm not going back to that. Not for you. Not for anyone."
I turn away, walk to my car, open the door.
"Gordon!"
I don't look back. I can't look back. If I look at his face one more time, I'll break, and I refuse to let him see me shatter.
The engine starts. The headlights cut through the darkness. I pull out of the parking lot, leaving Simon standing alone under the flickering streetlight, his hand still outstretched toward a person who's already gone.
I don't look in the rearview mirror.
Some things hurt too much to witness twice.
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