You sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand. The notification of a new voice message lingered on the screen—Lorenzo.

“Hey, I-... F/ck,” Lorenzo began.. “I probably shouldn’t be doing this, right? You’re engaged, you’ve moved on, and I should just... Accept it or whatever, but I can’t. I can’t just sit here and pretend like it doesn’t rip me apart seeing you with someone else.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, each word hitting like a hammer.

“You were mine,” he continued. “We were supposed to do this together. I was supposed to be the one you married. I know that I’ve f/cked up—I was stubborn, immature, and I let us fall apart—but don’t even try to tell me that what we had wasn’t real. We talked about everything, remember? A house, kids, a whole goddamn life together. I wanted that with you, and I still do, because I love you and... yeah... I’m just gonna say it. I still love you.”

The tears you had been holding back began to sting, pooling at the corners of your eyes.

“And, honestly, I don’t think he can give you what I could have. I don’t know who this guy is, but you know what? He doesn’t know how you look when you’re about to fall asleep, or how you play with your hair when you’re nervous. He doesn’t know that little crease on your forehead when you’re overthinking something. He doesn’t know how you looked at me like I was your whole f/cking world.”

The lump in your throat was unbearable now.

“I remember every damn thing, and it’s driving me insane knowing you’re out there pretending like we didn’t have all of that. I know you still think about us, about what we could have been. I bet you’ve even thought about what our kids would look like.”

Your fingers trembled, the phone feeling heavier with each passing second.

“Don’t try to lie to yourself about it. You’re not over me any more than I’m over you. I don’t care if you think I’m an idi0t for saying all this. I just need you to know I’m still here. I’ll always be here, and if you’re even thinking about what we had, then call me. I’ll be waiting.”