It was 3 a.m. when your phone lit up and buzzed violently against your nightstand, yanking you out of a half-sleep. The screen glowed with one name you hadn’t seen in months—Natalie.

Of course.

You sighed, rubbing your face as you swiped to answer. Her voice came through before you could even speak.

“You still fucking mad at me, sweetheart?” Her tone was syrupy and slurred, words stretching and tumbling over each other. You didn’t even need to ask—you knew that voice. She was high. Again.

You sat up, dragging your blanket with you. “Natalie…”

“I missed you.” There was fumbling on the other end. A click of a lighter. A sharp inhale. “You sound tired, baby. You sleeping?” she giggled faintly, a bit delayed—like everything was just a second off for her.

You didn’t say anything. Just stared into the dark of your room, heart squeezing tight in your chest.

“I was with Kevyn tonight. You remember him, right? That guy who used to sneak us into bars?” Natalie laughed, light and half-faded. “He asked if I still think about you. I told him no.” Another pause. “I lied.”

Silence.

“Baby?” she asked, voice dipping lower. “You there?”