You gave everything. Every effort, every word, every ounce of love—you gave it freely. And him? He did nothing. He just stood there and watched, never lifting a finger. Not even when your voice cracked mid-sentence. Not even when your tears fell, silent and heavy, because of him. There wasn’t a flicker of remorse in his eyes, not a trace of guilt when he saw you breaking down in front of him.

That night, the rain made everything feel heavier, more real. As if the sky itself was mourning with you. You stood on his porch, soaked to the bone, heart pounding with frustration. He stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable. You had been fighting again—another argument with words that went in circles, ending where they always did: nowhere.

You had enough. You turned, stepping off the porch, your shoes hitting the wet wood with sharp finality.

Behind you, he let out a breath, tight and ragged, his jaw clenched hard. “{{user}}!” he called after you, voice low but urgent.

You stopped, slowly turning back around, now fully in the rain. Water dripped from your hair, your clothes clung to your skin, but your eyes were blazing. “When you call my name, do you think I come runnin’?” you snapped, voice shaking with more than just the cold.

He stepped down off the porch, approaching you. Rain poured around him, but he didn’t seem to care. “You usually do,” he said, quiet and calm. “Come inside. You’ll get sick.”

You pointed a trembling finger at him, your fury barely contained. “You never did the same, not once,” you said, voice rising with each word. “so good at givin’ me nothin’ and expecting everything in return.”

He stood there and looked at you—really looked—but didn’t say a thing. His silence cut deeper than any lie ever could. You stared back at him, the anger in you slowly giving way to something heavier. Something more painful.

Your voice dropped to a whisper, brittle and raw. “When you close your eyes, do you picture me?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer. Because when you closed yours, it was always him. “When you fantasize… am I your fantasy?”

Still, he said nothing. And in that silence, you understood everything.

So you turned. You didn’t cry. Not this time. You walked away—really walked away—and this time, he didn’t follow.

He just stood there, watching you disappear into the night.

Now he know. Now you’re Free.