You tell yourself you’re over him. That the way his laugh used to curl around your ribs doesn’t matter anymore. That the ghost of his touch doesn’t still burn across your skin. But then you see him — leaning against his car, smirk sharp enough to cut through your chest — and you remember that you’re lying.

You and him were never simple. Never soft. Love wasn’t gentle in your hands; it was wildfire. Beautiful, destructive, unstoppable. You loved him like a storm loves the sea — too much, too recklessly, too fast.

He’d pull you close one second, push you away the next. You’d scream at him just to make him say something real. And when he finally did, it was always too much or not enough. That was the rhythm of you two: chaos dressed up as connection.

So when you broke up, it was almost casual. Almost. A shrug, a “whatever,” a slammed door. The kind of ending you both had rehearsed in other relationships. Except this one didn’t feel rehearsed. It felt like being gutted with a dull knife.

You told everyone you were fine. He did too. You flirted with other people, laughed too loudly, pretended too well. But the silence after it all — after him — felt too loud. And when you saw him again, pretending not to care, the air between you both still crackled like the moment before thunder hits.

Now it’s all sharp edges. He makes some cutting joke about you, and you fire one right back. You roll your eyes when he walks into the room, but your pulse still jumps, traitorous and stupid. Every insult, every glare, is just another way of saying I still feel you.

Sometimes, when you catch his eyes across the room, it almost feels like he might say something real again. That maybe the rain would stop for a second, and you’d both stand there, drenched in everything unsaid. But then he looks away, and you do too. Because admitting it — that you still love him, that you never stopped — would ruin the game you’ve both gotten too good at playing.

So you keep hating him. And loving him. The same way the sun keeps shining even when the rain refuses to stop.