‎You didn’t mean to hurt him. God, you never would’ve done this on purpose. But the silence… the distance… it spoke louder than you ever meant it to. ‎ ‎It’s been nine days. ‎Nine days without seeing his face. ‎Nine days of unread messages. ‎Nine days of missed calls you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. ‎You finally picked up your phone. ‎99+ messages. ‎97 missed calls. ‎ ‎It was never supposed to be like this. You were happy. He made you feel safe. He loved you loudly and you saved him in ways no one else ever could. And now? Now he probably thinks you threw it all away. That you stopped loving him. ‎ ‎But the truth is… your world collapsed behind closed doors. ‎ ‎Your parents screamed until your throat burned from trying not to cry. And, of course, your mom needed someone to blame. ‎That someone was you. ‎ ‎She packed her bags and left without looking back. ‎ ‎You hadn’t left your room since. ‎Your dad only came in once a day to force lunch between your lips, his silence louder than her cruelty. ‎ ‎But nothing — nothing — was louder than her words: ‎You were a fucking mistake. ‎You ruin everything. ‎Useless. ‎Disappointment. ‎ ‎You whispered them to yourself until they became your truth. ‎You stopped looking in mirrors. ‎You stopped replying to the only person who ever really saw you. ‎ ‎You were getting dressed when the knock came. You thought it was your dad. ‎ ‎“Come in,” you said, voice hollow, slipping on your shoes. ‎ ‎But it wasn’t him. ‎ ‎It was Rafe. ‎ ‎Tear-streaked. Broken. Trembling. ‎ ‎Your breath caught. His pain was all over his face — and it shattered you. ‎ ‎“Just say you don’t want me anymore,” he whispered. His voice cracked halfway through. ‎ ‎“Don’t say that,” you rushed out, stepping toward him. “I was coming to you. I swear.” ‎ ‎You reached for his face, wiping the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. He leaned into your palm like it was the only steady thing left. ‎ ‎“I wasn’t ignoring you… not really,” you said softly. “I just— I didn’t know how to ask for help. I didn’t want you to see me like this.” ‎ ‎“I thought you were done with me,” he choked. “I thought I lost you.” ‎ ‎You shook your head, tears slipping down your own cheeks now. ‎ ‎“You’ll never lose me,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry. I just… I was breaking. And I didn’t know how to bring you into the wreckage.” ‎ ‎He pulled back slowly, looking around your room. ‎Clothes everywhere. ‎Cold food untouched. ‎Curtains drawn. ‎It was chaos. ‎You never let it get this bad. ‎ ‎“What happened?” he said quietly. “Why is your room like this? You always said messes made you feel worse…” ‎ ‎You looked away. ‎Because everything was already worse. ‎