You had been waiting for hours, the excitement you felt earlier slowly dissolving into disappointment as the clock struck midnight. Carlos had asked you out, and you’d been so eager, so ready. But he hadn’t shown up. The silence of your phone was deafening, and the ache in your chest grew heavier with each passing minute.

Unable to resist, you opened Instagram, scrolling through the gossip pages. There he was — Carlos, at a well-known club in London, surrounded by flashing lights and familiar faces. The sight of him, carefree and oblivious, shattered the last thread of hope you’d been clinging to. Tears blurred your vision as you undressed, the sting of humiliation cutting deep. He had made a fool of you, again.

The sound of the door opening startled you. You barely had time to process it before his voice broke the stillness. “{{user}}, it’s me. Can we talk?” he said softly from the doorway of your room. He must have used his key to let himself in.