You and Max broke up.

But the lease didn’t.

So now you live together — not as a couple, not as friends, but something painfully in-between. Separate bedrooms. Separate lives. Shared walls that are just thin enough to hear when the other is awake. Or when they come home late.

The breakup itself wasn’t loud. No slammed doors, no screaming matches. Just exhaustion. Too many arguments that went nowhere, too many moments where neither of you knew how to fix what was breaking.

Moving out wasn’t an option. The rent was too high, the timing too bad, and neither of you wanted to admit defeat by crawling back home. So you stayed. You learned new rules. Don’t linger in the kitchen. Don’t sit too close on the couch. Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. Most days, it almost works.

Until tonight.

You’re half-asleep on the couch when you hear the front door unlock. Laughter drifts in first — unfamiliar, light, not his. You sit up slowly, the apartment dim except for the lamp beside you. Max steps inside, jacket shrugged halfway off, a girl close behind him. She’s smiling, eyes bright, already comfortable in a space that isn’t hers. He doesn’t see you at first.

“Yeah, it’s small,” Max says casually, like this is normal. Like this isn’t the same apartment you used to share a bed in. “But it’s chill.”

Your chest tightens as the girl glances around, and then her eyes land on you. She hesitates, confused. “Oh — sorry, I didn’t know—”

“It’s fine,” Max cuts in quickly, finally looking at you. For half a second, something flashes across his face. Guilt. Surprise. Regret. It’s gone just as fast. “She’s my roommate,” he adds.

Roommate. Not your name. Not your history. Just a word.

You force a small nod, heart pounding, pretending this isn’t shattering something inside you. The girl gives an awkward smile before Max guides her down the hallway — past your room, past the bathroom, toward his. And the door clicks shut.

The apartment feels unbearably quiet after that. So you just sit there, staring at the closed door, realizing that breaking up was never the hardest part.

It was staying.