My mind went blank.
A thin, high-pitched whine filled my ears—the sound silence makes when it tears itself apart.
The grocery bag slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a wet, muffled thud.
Plastic split.Carrots scattered like broken crayons.A bottle of dark soy sauce tipped over, thick and glossy, bleeding across the tiles.
The sound was soft.
But it cut straight through the room.
They looked up.
For one suspended heartbeat, nothing moved.
His hand was still on her waist.Her forehead still rested against his chest.
They stood too close—close enough to leave no room for air, or guilt, or me.
"What are you doing?!"
The scream tore out of me—raw, broken, coming from somewhere I didn't recognize.
I stepped forward.
Daniel moved first.
He didn't shout.He didn't rush.
He took one step toward me and shoved my shoulder.
Not hard enough to knock me down.
Hard enough to drive me back.
"Get out."
I stumbled, caught myself against the counter.
"What did you just say?" My voice shook. "On what grounds?"
"Get. Out."
Flat. Finished.
"This is my home," I said. "You don't get to—"
He reached into my bag and took my keys.
Just like that.
He closed his fist around them.
"You don't live here anymore."
Luna stood behind him, half-hidden by his shoulder.
Her eyes were wide. Damp. Trembling.
She said nothing.
Daniel turned, yanked the door open, and grabbed my coat from the hook—my hook—throwing it into the hallway.
Then my shoes.
They hit the floor hard, skidding across the tile.
"Stop," I said, rushing forward. "You can't just do this—"
He shook my hand off.
Another shove.
Stronger.
I grabbed for the doorframe. My fingers slipped.
"Daniel—listen to me. By what right?" I said, breath coming fast. "You can't just throw me out—"
"Get out."
He pushed.
I crossed the threshold unwillingly, off balance, still reaching back.
The door slammed shut behind me.
Not violent.
Decisive.
The lock clicked.