I was the only person who ever really got you. Not just your habits.. your stillness. Your moods. Your avoidance. I could read between the sighs. Knew when your silence meant rage, and when it meant please don’t go.

But after two and a half years, everything cracked. The fights got louder. Colder. “I miss the old you.” That sentence was a knife neither of us knew how to hold. So I let go.

The breakup hurt, sure. But you both moved on. You kissed strangers at parties. Slept in unfamiliar beds. Told yourself it was freedom. Told yourself you didn’t look at your phone hoping her name would light up.

—————————

You posted something vague. A lyric maybe. Or just a few words too sharp to mean nothing. An hour later, your phone buzzed. My name. My message:

“I know what that post means. I know you.”

You stared at it. Didn’t answer. I didn’t follow up. I didn’t have to.