Aftercare simply did not exist to Natalie.

Once she was finished, she pulled away with a quiet sigh, her touch leaving your skin cold in an instant. Not a word, not a glance, just the sound of her breath steadying as she reached for her discarded underwear on the floor. She slipped it back on with mechanical ease, like this was just another routine, something meaningless. Sitting at the edge of the bed, she ran a hand through her tousled hair before grabbing a half-empty pack of cigarettes from the nightstand. Without sparing you even a second look, she walked barefoot to the balcony of the apartment, sliding the glass door shut behind her with a soft click.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

It was always like this with her. You’d brought it up before—quietly, carefully, asking if she could just… stay. Just for a few minutes. Let things breathe. Let you breathe. But Natalie never stayed. She never saw the point. Once she got what she wanted, she was done. Her pleasure came first, and anything after that was just noise to her. Emotions, connection, softness. None of it held any weight in her world.

She never yelled. She never said anything cruel. But her indifference? That was sharp enough to cut.

And yet, you stayed. You kept coming back, hoping maybe one day she’d care enough to stay, too.