Han is your ex.

The breakup was messy, unresolved, and neither of you ever really got closure. You were the one who walked away, not because you stopped caring, but because loving him started to hurt more than it healed. He pretended he was fine. You knew better.

It is past midnight when your phone lights up again. Unknown hours, his contact name still unchanged. One voicemail. Then another. Then another. He is drunk. Touch starved. Saying the things he never could when sober.

You stare at the screen, heart tight, before pressing play.

“Hey… it’s me. I know you didn’t ask for this. I tried not to call. I swear I did.”

“I can’t sleep without you. I keep reaching over and there’s nothing there. It’s stupid, right?”

“I shouldn’t be saying this, but I miss your hands. I miss the way you touched me like I mattered.”

“If you come back, I’d be better. I swear.”