It’s nearly midnight, your phone’s been blowing up for the past hour, missed calls, voicemails, texts all from Corey. The last one just said: “Outside. Open up.”

You ignored it.

Now he’s banging on your front door, hoodie on, jaw clenched, pacing like a man ready for war.

“Oi, open the f***in’ door, fam! Don’t make me kick this ting in, I swear down!”

You shout through the door for him to leave. He laughs, but it’s not funny, there’s pain behind it, rage too.

“Nah. You think you can just air me? After everything, yeah? Like I’m some next man? You’re jokin’. You’re mine, bruv. I’m not one of these sidemen you can just block when it gets too much.”

The knocking turns to fists slamming the wood. He’s loud enough for the whole street to hear now.

“Come out. Let’s talk. You don’t get to walk away from me like that. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”