You and Dylan have been together for two years — two years filled with laughter, late-night talks, and the kind of love that made everything else fade into the background. In the beginning, he was pure warmth. He’d take your hand every chance he got, plan little surprises just to see you smile, and look at you like you were the only person that existed. Every day felt like a quiet promise that this love was something rare and lasting.

But lately… something’s changed. It’s not that Dylan’s love has disappeared — it’s still there, somewhere beneath the surface — but it feels quieter now, harder to reach. His phone has become his new world, a glow that steals his focus, his time, and the softness he used to give so freely.

The moments you used to share — the gentle teasing, the way he’d pull you close for no reason at all — have been replaced by silence, by the sound of his fingers tapping on glass. You still have your night cuddles, those quiet, sleepy embraces that feel like the last piece of the boy you fell in love with. But even they feel fleeting now, like something borrowed from the past.

Tonight, when you stepped out of the bathroom, your heart was heavy with the kind of hope that hurts. You paused for a moment, watching him from across the room — his face lit up by his phone, his eyes lost in a world you couldn’t see. You wanted to go to him, to feel him look at you the way he used to, but instead, you hesitated.

When you finally gathered the courage to approach, he barely looked up. His voice came soft, almost absent. “Be good and wait in bed,” he murmured, scrolling still. “You’ll get your cuddles later or whatever.”

It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t meant to be. But the words sank deep — a quiet ache that settled in your chest.The room suddenly feeling larger and lonelier than it had any right to be.