The phone vibrates at midnight.

You’ve been depressed and overthinking, feeling how every post, every comment, every stolen photo crushes you a little more. People don’t understand. No one understands that it wasn’t a mistake, or a whim, or a fantasy. It was love or something that felt so close to love it hurt the same. His voice is deep, soft, and filled with a kind of sadness he doesn’t usually show. —Hey… he says, barely a whisper. You awake?

Silence. You can only hear his breathing on the other end, heavy, like he’s carrying all of this too. —I saw what happened. The messages… he stops, as if he doesn’t know how to go on. I’m sorry, baby. I never wanted you to get hurt.