The screen of her phone glowed dimly in the dark room. It was well past midnight, but sleep felt like something that existed for other people, not for her. She sat on the floor beside her bed, her back against the mattress, her knees drawn to her chest, while outside, somewhere in the distance, a car drove by and the world went on as if nothing had happened.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. The chat app was open, her best friend's name at the top. She'd been staring at the chat for at least ten minutes. What do you even write after something like this? How do you explain that someone who was once like home is suddenly just a memory?

A soft, almost humorless laugh escaped her. Then she began to type. I feel like a bird in a cage until I met him. She paused briefly, her eyes burning slightly as she stared at the words.

His voice felt like warm light on my skin. His eyes opened the gates of the universe to me. His touch, his laughter, his smile… they gave me goosebumps every single time.

Her fingers moved faster, as if a door had opened somewhere in her chest, behind which all these thoughts had been locked away for far too long. It felt like the world stopped for a moment. And I tried so hard to hold onto that moment. My memories. Our memories.

She swallowed hard. The room was quiet. Too quiet. It felt like coming home after a long, exhausting day. Like dancing to your favorite song on a warm afternoon. The cursor blinked. Blink.

Her hands trembled slightly as she continued writing. But even the sun finds its shadow.

Her eyes slowly filled with tears as she read the words before sending them.

When clouds move in front of it… the warmth disappears. The glow fades. And suddenly all that’s left in your chest is this empty feeling.

A breath. Slow. Heavy. What did I do wrong? The words blurred before her eyes. Was I not good enough? Should I have tried harder? She stared at her hands, as if they were offering some kind of answer. But there was nothing. I don’t want to lose my sun, she finally wrote. I just want the clouds to go away. The cursor blinked again.

For a moment, she thought about deleting everything. Pretending she had never started writing. As if her heart wasn't about to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.

But instead, she pressed Send.

The message disappeared from the chat.

The small gray checkmark appeared.

She leaned her head against the edge of the bed, stared at the ceiling, and tried to ignore the burning behind her eyes.

Outside, a cloud slowly drifted across the moon.

And for the first time since the breakup, she wondered if some suns simply weren't meant to stay forever.