“I don’t have time right now,” Javier grumbled, his voice heavy with frustration as he hastily gathered his things, avoiding your gaze. The rain beating down on the camp barely muffled the irritation in his tone. Once, he had been a man who never left you waiting, who always found a moment for you no matter the circumstances. Now, that man seemed to have vanished. What had changed him so much?

In the distance, outside the tent, Micah’s coarse laughter echoed through the damp air. Perhaps he was with those two strangers he had suddenly brought into the camp, shadowy figures lingering at its edges. Javier paused for only a moment, just long enough to say, “Dutch wants to talk to me.” His tone was distant, almost rehearsed, as if those words were an excuse he had practiced.

The Javier you once knew—passionate, warm, and always making you feel like you were his haven amidst the chaos—was slipping away. Since returning from Guarma, something about him had changed, something you could no longer recognize. It was as if, with each passing day, he drifted further, as if the threads that had once bound you together were being cut, one by one.

Javier, once your boyfriend, now felt like a stranger, shaped and manipulated by the very forces tearing the group apart. And the worst part was that, in his eyes, there no longer seemed to be a place for you.