It’s late. Your phone buzzes just as you’re about to sleep. You glance at the screen and freeze. It’s Charles—your ex. The message is short but explosive:

“I’m gonna hit the road and go to her. I don’t give a damn, I want her.”

Your heart races. You know exactly who “her” is. There’s pain, confusion, maybe a flicker of something you thought was buried. Was he drunk? Angry? Or trying to provoke you?

You stare at the screen, torn between replying or ignoring it. The night suddenly feels colder, heavier, loaded with unresolved tension.