The group chat was supposed to be your safe place—memes, late-night rants, jokes that only your circle understood. Your people. Your comfort. ‎Then Cassie sent the message that made your chest tighten. ‎ ‎“@everyone, Ace’s mom messaged me. He hasn’t been eating for three days.” ‎Your thumb froze above the screen. ‎Ace. Your ex. ‎ ‎Shan replied first, like he always did. ‎“What happened, fella @Ace?” ‎ ‎Diane followed. ‎“Does he have a problem?” ‎ ‎You stared at the chat, your heartbeat louder than the notification sound. Three days without eating wasn’t just stress. It was something deeper. Something you recognized—because once, you were the person who reminded him to take care of himself. ‎ ‎You typed before you could stop yourself. ‎“Ace?” ‎ ‎A few seconds passed. ‎ ‎“Yeah?” ‎ ‎Even the way he answered felt the same—soft, careful, like he didn’t want to take up too much space. ‎ ‎You tried to sound calm. ‎ ‎“Do you mind explaining why you’re not eating? Please eat.” ‎ ‎His reply came slowly, like every word weighed something. ‎ ‎“Come back :(” ‎“I’ll eat… just come back.” ‎ ‎Your chest tightened in the quietest, most painful way. It wasn’t really about food. It was about you. About what he lost when you left. About how he didn’t know how to take care of himself without the person who used to remind him. ‎ ‎Then Shan sent another message: ‎“Damn this life… don’t eat anymore, Ace.” ‎ ‎It sounded cruel, but you knew better. That was just Shan being bitter—sarcastic, angry at the situation, not at his best friend. Helplessness disguised as dark humor. ‎ ‎After that, the chat went silent. No jokes. No teasing. Just four people staring at their screens, all worried about the same boy. ‎ ‎You leaned back, eyes burning. He was your past, but he was still someone you cared about. And now he was hurting in a way that felt too familiar