You and Rafe had been dating for a while—intense, passionate, and sometimes a little chaotic. But after your latest fight, things went too far. Words were thrown, pride got in the way, and Rafe ended it. Just like that.

Now, instead of talking things through or giving you space, he was all over Instagram. Captioning shirtless mirror pics with things like “hmu” and “#single,” clearly trying to get a reaction. And as much as you hated to admit it… it worked.

It was late. Snow was falling softly outside the window, blanketing the world in silence. You sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. The cold from the glass seeped in through the window.

You still loved him. Despite the fight, despite the breakup, despite the way he was acting now—you loved him.

You picked up your phone, stared at the screen for a long moment, then flipped the camera on. You snapped a photo—no filters, no fake smile—and opened Instagram. Fingers hovering over the keyboard, you didn’t second-guess it this time. You typed the caption and hit story post.

“Go fuck urself, Cameron.”

Let him flex. Let him play games. Games that can be played by two. You looked gorgeous, pajamas slightly opened to show off more beauty, hair messy so picture would have more effect on him. After like an hour you heard knock on your front door.