(Anthony Ren's POV)
He told himself he could handle it.
That he was calm.
That everything was under control.
That Michelle getting lost, Michelle clinging to Steven from exhaustion, Michelle laughing with Andy, Michelle leaning on Kate —
He told himself none of it mattered.
She didn't love him.
Not anymore.
Maybe she never did.
He told himself all of this—
And yet here he was.
Standing alone inside the gym on the top floor of Andy's penthouse building, fists clenched around a punching bag so tightly the leather creaked.
He wasn't punching.
He was breathing.
Or trying to.
Every inhale burned, sharp and acidic.
Every exhale felt like he was releasing pieces he didn't know he'd been holding inside.
She almost slipped away from us again.
That thought had sunk its claws into his skull since the moment they found her — muddy, scratched, trembling, trying to look strong when she was seconds away from crying.
And the first person she leaned on…
was Steven.
Not him.
