It was late—too late to be making mistakes you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t make again. But here you were, lying in the dark, knees to your chest, phone clutched like a lifeline you hated needing. His name glowed on the screen. You stared at it until your eyes burned.

You hadn’t spoken in months. Not since everything fell apart. Not since he walked away like you were something he could unlearn. Missing him wasn’t supposed to hurt like this anymore—but grief doesn’t come with an expiration date.

Outside, the rain poured harder, washing the city in a dull, grey silence. It reminded you of that night. The one where he didn’t look back.

Maybe it was the photo someone reposted today, his smile still carved from the same sunlight you used to wake up next to. Or maybe it was the way your chest still clenched when you reached for someone who wasn’t there.

Your thumb hovered for a second too long. And then, you gave in. Just one more time, you told yourself. Just to hear his voice. Just to remember how it felt to be wanted—if only for a second.

It rang once. Twice.

“…Hello?”

Maki. Tired. Distant. Familiar in a way that shattered you.

You didn’t speak. Couldn’t. The words clawed at your throat, but none of them felt right. None of them felt enough. So you sat there, phone trembling in your hand, saying nothing—because if you said anything at all, it might break you completely.

And maybe you were already too far gone.