You and Charles had shared something in the past — something undefined but undeniably real. It wasn’t just casual, but it wasn’t a full-blown relationship either. It existed in that fragile space in between, something special that had felt almost sacred, until he shattered it. He walked away, leaving you to pick up the pieces, retreating back to his old habits, the charm that could so easily mask his flaws now weaponized into indifference.

Months passed, and you told yourself you’d moved on. But when Charles came back, with his smooth words and heartfelt promises, you faltered. He said he’d changed, that he was no longer the selfish boy who didn’t know how to care for what mattered. And in a moment of weakness — or maybe hope — you believed him. You let him pull you back into his orbit, falling into the familiar, intoxicating cycle once more.

Now, at 3 a.m., you stirred awake to find his warmth gone. Blinking against the dim light, you saw him — standing at the edge of the bed, pulling on his clothes. The sight made your heart ache, the familiarity of this moment sinking in far too deeply.

You turned, your eyes meeting his. He froze, mid-motion, like a child caught in the act of something they knew was wrong. His vacant expression betrayed everything — apologies unspoken, maturity unproven, the same patterns repeating like a broken record.

In that moment, the truth hit you harder than his absence ever had: Charles hadn’t changed. And maybe, just maybe, you deserved more than empty promises and late-night regrets.