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The phone rings once before he picks up.

“Jesus, Sienna—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snap. “Are you serious right now? Blackmail? Screenshots? Sending this shit to my dad? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He stammers. “Bunny, what—what are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You’re disgusting. You’re fucking sick. Stay the hell away from me, Caleb. I swear to God—”

I hang up before I lose it entirely.

My thumb lingers over the emails. Every word, every attachment feels radioactive. My entire body is vibrating with rage. With humiliation. With fear. My fingers move on autopilot as I select them all.

Delete.

Delete.

Delete.

I wish I could delete more than just files.

I pause, hunched over, the room too quiet, the light too sharp through the blinds. I knew this would explode. I knew none of it was smart – sleeping with Caleb, letting Eli touch me like that, letting them both get under my skin. It was always going to end in disaster.

I should’ve listened to my gut.

This was all a mistake.

Every second of it.

I throw on the first hoodie I find and head downstairs. I’m not looking in a mirror. I don’t care what I look like. I just need air. I need noise. I need to not be inside my own head.

Dad’s already in the kitchen, flipping through the paper and sipping his coffee.

He looks up when he hears me. “Hey, kiddo. You okay?”

“Yes,” I say quickly. Too quickly. I don’t meet his eyes.

I head straight for the fridge and pour myself some orange juice. My fingers are clumsy on the carton. I nearly overfill the glass.

“You sure?” he asks again, gentler now.

I nod as I grab a bowl and box of cereal. “Just tired. Long night.”

He watches me for a moment but doesn’t push. I take a seat and focus hard on my spoon, letting the cold milk numb the inside of my mouth. The spoon clinks quietly against the side of the bowl.

I will not think about Eli.

Or Caleb.

Or how everything I’ve done with them is not normal.

I will not think about the way Eli made me forget who I was. Or the way Caleb made me ashamed of who I became.

They’ve both done nothing but cause me problems.

And I’m done.

By noon, I’m back upstairs, sitting on my bed with my laptop open but untouched. My screen saver bounces lazily around the edges. I stare through it, phone on silent beside me.