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Then she says, “But when you are ready? Fall apart properly. Not halfway. Ugly cry, throw a plate. Don’t bottle it.”

I nod. “Yeah. just did”

“Then slap on some concealer and fake it ’til you can breathe again.”

My shoulders drop a fraction, just enough to notice how tight I’d been wound.

Aurora doesn’t try to fix me. She just helps me stand.

She stays while I shower. She helps me pick out something sharp, not soft.

Nothing that says please come back.

Just clean lines, clean slate.

She doesn’t say revenge outfit, but we both know what it is.

Griffin calls twice.

I send him to voicemail both times.

Not in the mood for a lecture about how I’ve embarrassed him, ruined my career, or thrown myself to the wolves. I’m not some princess he gets to lock in a damn tower ’til the right guy shows up.

I’m a grown-ass woman who fell for a man that made me feel more seen in one night than anybody ever has.

“I think Griffin means well, but in his overbearing, overprotective, ass-backward way—he’s never once asked what I actually want.”

“I get to screw up on my own terms.”

“Girl, you’re totally right.” Aurora says as she applies mascara to my lashes. “Maybe it’s time to start showing these guys who you really are.”

“Not the version they want to see. Not the one Griffin’s been curating like your life is a family brand.”

“Shit, you’re not wrong.”

She meets my eyes in the mirror. “So stop playing their game.”

I think about that.

About the way Liam looked at me.

About how real it felt until it didn't.

And I decide—

If he won't stay, I won't wait.

He left, and I'm not chasing him.

But I'll make damn sure he knows what he walked away from.

When Aurora leaves, I light a candle, finish my now-cold coffee, and open my laptop.

I start drafting a nutrition plan for a player I haven’t even met yet.

Not because it matters.

But because I do.