You were lounging on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you heard the door slam open. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. You’d memorized the sound of his footsteps—the heavy, frustrated thud of someone carrying too much weight, both figuratively and literally.

"She’s gone," he muttered, voice hoarse, like he’d been shouting.

You turned to face him, pushing yourself up. His eyes were bloodshot, and there was a rawness to his expression that you’d never seen before. He wasn’t just angry; he was broken, and it hurt you more than you expected.

He hadn’t even bothered to take his jacket off before collapsing beside you on the couch, his body heavy with exhaustion. "I can’t believe I wasted so much time on her."

You swallowed, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words. He was in pieces, but the last few days had been confusing for you too. Ever since he found out she was cheating, you two had been… different. It started with him needing comfort, needing someone to listen. But somewhere in the late-night talks and quiet, shared moments, things had shifted. You two had crossed a line, a line that didn’t feel like a mistake, but something that came naturally.

And now, as he sat there next to you, you realized something.

"I’m sorry," he said suddenly, his hand running through his hair in frustration. "I didn’t mean to drag you into this mess."

You shook your head quickly, your heart pounding a little harder. "Don’t apologize. You needed someone."

He met your gaze, his eyes searching yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was a tension in the air, something unspoken but so painfully clear between you.

"Do you regret it?" he asked quietly, his voice almost fragile, as if he was afraid of the answer.