Rafe Cameron wasn’t used to losing control. But she changed that.

They met on a summer night when the salt in the air was thicker than the tension between them. She wasn’t afraid of him—that scared him the most. Her laugh cut through his chaos, and for a moment, he believed he could be something more.

But distance crept in. Timing never played fair.

She moved to the city. He stayed, stuck in the same patterns. They tried—late-night calls, whispered promises—but the cracks grew wider.

Then came the breakdown. Words turned to shouting. Shouting turned to silence.

He waited for a message that never came. She waited for him to be the boy she saw that first night.

Neither moved.

And just like that, the train ran off its tracks.

She stood on a rooftop months later, wondering if he ever got better. He sat on the edge of a dock, wondering if she ever forgave him.

But neither called.