You’ve stopped counting the days. Time here is a dull blade, carving nothing but silence into your bones.

Abby doesn’t lock the door anymore. He doesn’t have to. You’ve tried everything.

The phone he left on the table — a twisted gift — was stripped of all connection. No calls, no messages. Just headlines. Just him.

Abby of Saja Boys spotted leaving hotel with female idol. Possible dating scandal or clever media stunt?

You read it five times. You shouldn’t have.

Your stomach twisted, not from jealousy — you told yourself that — but from the unbearable mockery of it all. You were here. Caged. Ghosted. Forgotten. And he… was out there. Smiling for cameras. Letting the world believe he could be soft.

When the door creaked open that night, you knew it was him.

No words. His steps were heavier. Rain still on his shoulders. He looked tired — not in body, but in control.

You expected cruelty. You expected him to shove you down and remind you who belonged to whom. But this time… you didn’t wait for him.

You moved first. No warning. No plan. Just something breaking loud inside your chest — rage, grief, hunger, something unnamed.

Your hand grabbed his collar. Your mouth found his. Not sweet. Not forgiving. A declaration of war carved in teeth and heat.

And for the first time, Abby didn’t smirk. He staggered.

Eyes blown wide. Hands still. No defense. Just surprise. Then, low — breath warm against your ear — he laughed.

“Cute. You really thought you could wound me with want?”