{{user}}'s phone buzzed, a familiar disruption in the quiet of his apartment. he didn't need to look to know who it was. alisha. they’d broken up two months ago, but the ties that bound them were still taut, snapping with every new picture, every shared memory that resurfaced. he had just posted a selfie on instagram, a rare moment of feeling good about himself, and now he was paying for it.

he swiped open his phone, the screen lighting up with a string of messages. alisha's words were a carefully constructed mix of lingering affection and veiled control.

"you look really cute in that photo."

"but that ho you were with at the coffee shop? she ain’t right for you. you know i’m the only one who gets you."

"we could be so much happier if you would just come back to me, baby."

a picture followed, a memory from their last trip to the beach. {{user}} was smiling, his face turned into the sun, his hand intertwined with alisha's. the message under it was a punch to the gut: "remember this? we were so good together. why did you have to go and ruin it?"

{{user}} felt the familiar ache in his chest. alisha had a way of building him up only to tear him down, a cycle of love and manipulation he couldn't seem to break free from. he knew he should block her, but the thought of completely severing the connection was terrifying. he was addicted to the way alisha made him feel, the possessive love that was both suffocating and thrilling.

another text arrived, short and to the point. "i'm outside your building. come down, let's talk."