Outside the café, the noise of the street crashes into Athena all at once—cars, voices, laughter that feels obscene in its normalcy. She barely registers any of it. Her legs carry her forward on instinct, her chest tight, her throat burning.
Madeline is already standing there.
The moment Athena reaches her, her strength gives out.
Madeline pulls her into a hug without a word, arms firm, familiar, safe. The kind of hug that says you don't have to explain. Athena's tears soak into her shoulder as her body finally allows what it had been holding back inside the café.
Madeline strokes her back slowly.
"It's fine," she murmurs, voice gentle, steady. "Stop crying."
Athena shakes her head against her shoulder, breath hitching, chest aching as though something vital has been torn loose.
"Does it really have to end like this?" she chokes out, the question tearing itself from somewhere deep inside her ribs.
Madeline sighs—not impatient, just tired. Resigned.
"Since it has ended this way," she says softly, "you just have to forget everything and move on."
The words hurt, but Athena knows they're not cruel. They're survival advice.
She pulls back, wipes her tears with the back of her hand, forcing herself to breathe.
"Let's go."
Madeline studies her face. "Should we stroll a little?"
Athena nods. "Yes."
They start walking along the side of the road, shoulder to shoulder. Madeline talks—about nothing important, about small things, about distractions—her voice rising and falling as she tries to stitch Athena back together with words. Athena listens but doesn't really hear. Her mind is still trapped inside the café, replaying Stephan's voice, his eyes, the way love had looked like something forbidden.
Then Madeline suddenly stops.
Before Athena can ask why, Madeline turns and wraps her arms around her—tight, desperate, like she's afraid to let go.
"What are you—" Athena begins.
The rest of the sentence never comes.
Madeline's weight shifts unnaturally. She slumps forward, leaning heavily against Athena, her body suddenly boneless. Instinctively, Athena reaches out, hands pressing against Madeline's back—
—and freezes.
Her fingers come away wet. Warm.
Too warm.
She stares at her hands, disbelief flooding her veins as red stains her skin.
"No…" Her voice trembles, barely there. She looks down at Madeline's face, pale, unfocused.
"Madeline," she whispers shakily. "Madeline…"
Her knees threaten to give out as realization crashes into her.
"I told you not to save me," Athena sobs, panic shredding her words. "Why? Why would you do that?"
Madeline's lips move, sound spilling out broken and weak.
"You…" she coughs, blood staining her mouth. "Safe…"
Her body jerks once, then goes limp.
"Madeline!" Athena cries, holding her tighter, as if her arms alone could keep life from slipping away. "Stay with me. Please. Don't do this. Don't leave me too."
But Madeline's eyes flutter shut.
The world keeps moving—cars passing, people shouting, someone screaming for help—but Athena hears none of it. She sits there on the edge of the road, cradling Madeline's body, staring blankly at her blood-soaked hands as if they belong to someone else.
Minutes later, sirens pierce the air.
An ambulance arrives. Hands pull Madeline away. Voices ask questions Athena cannot answer. Someone guides her into the vehicle, but her soul feels like it stayed behind on the pavement.
As the ambulance doors shut, Athena's gaze never leaves Madeline.
Love had already taken everything from her today.
And now, it was taking her best friend too.