You waited until your boyfriend’s breathing turned slow and steady, the soft rhythm of someone deep in sleep—someone who trusted you. That’s when you slipped out of bed, phone already in your hand, fingers trembling as you dialed the number you swore you deleted. He answered on the second ring, like he’d been waiting. He always was.

"Can’t stay away, huh?" his voice was low, amused, pulling you in like gravity.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That you were just lonely. That you just missed how it felt to be wanted. But the truth was uglier: you missed him. His chaos, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were already his—even when you were wearing someone else’s ring.

He wasn’t kind. He wasn’t safe. But he saw you—the version of you that didn’t smile for appearances or settle for routine.

And no matter how many nights you woke up in someone else's arms, it was always his voice you dreamed of.

"Does he know you call me when he sleeps?" He murmurs...