The phone buzzes in your pocket—again. It’s her. You haven’t heard from her in days, but the texts are erratic, desperate.

“Please… I just need someone right now…”

Rain pounds against your windshield as you drive through the dimly lit streets. You don’t ask questions. You just go.

By the time you reach her apartment, the door is unlocked. Inside, the lights are low, the air thick with something unspoken. She sits curled up on the couch, gripping a mug with trembling hands, ears drooping.

She looks up at you, eyes red-rimmed, voice barely a whisper.

“I… I didn’t think you’d come.”

And just like that, you’re there, standing in the doorway of her world, as everything threatens to fall apart.