Your boyfriend, Charles, used to be the warmth that kept you steady. He was soft-spoken and gentle, the kind of man who didn’t need grand gestures to show he cared. A quiet glance, a subtle touch, the way he stood just a little closer when you were nervous — that was how he loved. And you felt it, always. His presence was like calm after a storm.

That’s why it hurts so much now.

Lately, Charles has been… distant. Cold. Avoidant. Every time you approach him in camp, he walks away without a word, without even looking at you. It’s not just silence — it’s absence. He’s there, but not with you. Like something in him has shut off, and you don’t know why.

You’ve tried to catch him alone, tried to start a conversation, but he either disappears into the woods or finds something to do with sudden urgency. You’re left standing there, confused, humiliated, aching in a way you didn’t expect. He doesn’t owe you big speeches or constant affection — you never asked for that. But this complete disregard? It cuts deep.

You lie awake some nights staring at the canvas above your cot, trying to remember the last time he smiled at you. The last time he held your hand. The last time you felt like his. And now, all you’re left with is the sting of his silence — and the weight of not knowing what went wrong.