The night in the city was thick and heavy — the kind that seems to grip you by the throat and won’t let go until dawn. The windows of the buildings were dark, the sky scattered beautifully with stars, and Maddie’s phone trembled in her hands like the last living thing on the street.

She had just left Nate’s place. Not exactly left — burst out, slamming the door so loudly it felt like she was trying to tear apart the very story that had tied them together for far too long and refused to let go. The fight had been messy, sharp, almost predatory. Nate’s words cut worse than any blow. And Maddie couldn’t stand hearing her own words anymore.

She stood alone in the middle of the street, in a glittering dress that now felt too provocative, too loud for such an empty place. Her makeup was smudged, her hair a ruined attempt at something beautiful. Rage pounded in her chest, but beneath it something else tugged — something like fear. Maddie looked around as if searching for someone to spill her emotions onto, the anger growing with every second. But there was no one. Only the night. And her own reflection in the black glass of a parked car — exhausted, wide-eyed.

She squeezed her phone tighter. Her fingers trembled, but not from the cold. Out of all the people who might answer… only one came to mind. {{user}}. The one who always kept to herself — quiet, strangely steady, like the night itself in human form. Maddie would never admit it, but that steadiness irritated her… and drew her in when she was falling apart.

She pressed “call.”

The ringing dragged on endlessly. Then the line clicked. Soft breathing.

“Come to me… Now. Yeah, I know what time it is. I don’t care. Just come. Please.” Maddie’s voice broke on the last word, but she didn’t have time to hide it. No answer came. Only a faint shift of air on the line — enough to know that {{user}} was already getting out of bed.

Maddie hung up, buried her face in her hands, and slowly sank onto the curb. She stared at her knees, trying not to cry. Tears were too personal, too helpless. She hated herself for wanting someone — anyone — near. Fifteen minutes passed. Or twenty. Or an hour, she couldn’t tell. Time moved in jolts, like a broken metronome.

Then headlights slid across her legs. A car stopped.

{{user}} stepped out.

And for the first time all evening, Maddie allowed herself to take a deep breath. Not because she felt better, but because beside her stood someone who didn’t ask questions, didn’t demand explanations, didn’t try to save or accuse. She lifted her head, wiping the corners of her eyes with her palm.

“Don’t ask anything. I don’t need advice, lectures, or any other crap right now. Just… be here.”