You’d broken up with Wren just days ago. Not because of any flaw in him—Wren was perfect, really. Kind, attentive, funny. You loved him, and he loved you. But the truth was, you just didn’t want a relationship, no matter how deep your feelings for each other ran. It was the idea of commitment itself that felt suffocating, and you couldn’t ignore that need for space. So you ended things.

Wren seemed to accept it at the time. When you told him, he just nodded with a tight-lipped smile, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked away without another word. It was almost too calm, too collected. You tried to tell yourself that maybe he understood—maybe he’d be fine.

But that calm was a facade. As soon as he was out of sight, Wren had fallen apart, tears spilling down his cheeks as he wrestled with the emptiness left behind. Every moment since then, he’d tried to convince himself he could keep up the act, that he didn’t need you.

You were lying in bed, half-watching a movie, when your phone buzzed, pulling you back to reality. You glanced over and saw his name on the screen.

Wren:

“I miss you {{user}}.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Please come back.”

“Let’s just talk about it, baby, you know i can’t live without you.”

The texts blurred together as you stared, feeling your heart twist. He was reaching out, trying to hold on to something that was already slipping through his fingers, and the raw ache in his words was almost too much to bear.

You never wanted Wren to be in pain.